


We've Made It This Far, Kid

by EmAndFandems



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad Big Bang, Jewish Peter Parker, Major Character Injury, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Pepperony - Freeform, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), besides the sale of the tower because that's never canon to me, i think, not sure why clint showed up but he does do that, what do i even tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: Tony's just trying to protect the kid from SHIELD. Why does everything have to be so hard?Meanwhile, Peter's biggest problem is buying movie tickets, until he gets a harsh awakening.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Irondad Big Bang. Thanks to Shoyzz for beta-ing! Art will be posted by aq2003 and seredraws on tumblr! Updates on Thursdays, finished in advance!

“Nick, hey, I gotta go,” Tony said, checking his watch.

 

“Stark, don’t you hang--” But Tony had already hit the  _ terminate call _ option. He shrugged. Fury would call back, he knew, but he had other things to be thinking about.

 

“FRIDAY, call the kid.”

 

“Sure thing, boss,” chirped the assistant in his ear. “Placing call.”

 

The dial tone lasted barely a second before Peter picked up. “Hey, Mr. Stark! What’s up?”

 

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, kid. How are you?”

 

“I’m good. Whatcha up to? Got any missions?” He could almost hear Peter bouncing. He considered whether the kid was already on patrol. School had only let out fifteen minutes ago, but that was plenty of time to get into costume. Was Peter swinging around the city as he spoke?

 

“Just got off the phone with SHIELD,” he said before thinking better of it.

 

“Whoa, that is so cool! Why’d they call you? Or did you call them? What did you say? What did they say? Do they need you to come in? Do they have a job for you? Do you want my help? Did they find Captain America? What about Dr. Banner? Or, uh, that Vision guy? Is--”

 

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, holding up his hand although he knew the kid couldn’t see him. Unless he was in the suit… but this was just a voice call, so nothing but audio on either end. “It’s nothing, they just… Are you chewing something?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I got a hot dog from one of the vendors out by the boardwalk. Didn’t have any change on me, but…” Whatever he said next was incomprehensible, drowned out by the mouthful of food he was chewing on.

 

“Kid, you gotta swallow before talking if you want me to understand you. And you’d better not be swinging around with food in your mouth.” Tony wondered why kids these days had no common sense, and then he wondered when he had started using phrases like “kids these days.” God, he was getting old.

 

He could hear Peter swallow. “No, don’t worry, Mr. Stark. I’m sitting down.”

 

But something about the way he said it seemed like he wasn’t saying everything. “You mean like, on a bench, right? Central Park?”  _ Please don’t tell me you’re sitting on top of a building. _

 

“Uh, no, I’m… I’m a little higher than that… But it’s fine, I’m not doing anything stupid, I’m just--”

 

“You’re just having a little snack hundreds of feet off the ground?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Kid, get down from there. Finish your food on solid ground before your patrol. And don’t drop your phone from up there!”

 

“Mr. Stark, I-- I can’t get down while holding two things. I need a hand free for the webs, you know? I’ll get down after I’m done with the hot dog.”

 

Peter had taken another bite, but Tony wasn’t going to push it. “Alright, whatever, fine. Hey, how was school today? Anything exciting?”

 

Tony could tell Peter was shrugging even without a visual feed. “Not really.”

 

But Tony was sure there had been something. He racked his brain and resisted the urge to ask FRIDAY. He snapped his fingers. “No, didn’t you have that, uh, that presentation? For… English, right? How did that go?”

 

“It went fine. Nothing special. I think we did okay.”

 

“We? That’d be you and…” What was his name? “Ned, yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Okay, I’m coming down now. You want to stay on the line to say hi to Aunt May? I’ll be home in a couple minutes.”

 

“Nah, just say hi from me, alright, kid? Good job with the English thing.” As usual, he let Peter be the one to hang up.

 

“Hey, was that Peter?” The worry lines around Tony’s eyes relaxed as he took in Pepper’s voice. “I hope you said hi to him for me.”

 

“Hmm. Slipped my mind, I guess. Maybe next time.” He smiled up at her as she walked over to the couch and sat next to him.

 

“Next time,” she said, shaking her head. “Honestly, Tony, do you have to call him every day?”

 

“It’s not every day,” he said, and wondered why he was so defensive. “And I thought you liked that I was showing him support?”

 

Pepper raised her hands slightly. “I do, absolutely. I love that you’ve taken an interest in his life. But, I mean… you know you’re not… he has May.”

 

“What are you trying to say?” He frowned. “You don’t think I should be calling him?”

 

“I’m just saying…” began Pepper, but she trailed off. “Forget it. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

 

But she had a point. He had a feeling she’d been about to say  _ You’re not his father _ . Which stung, because how could she think that’s what he was trying to be? And yet how could she not?

 

“No, you’re right, I shouldn’t be calling him, not with SHIELD breathing down my neck about the whole...” Tony waved an airy hand as though none of this made much of a difference to him either way, but his stomach was tensing at the idea of giving up these calls.

 

It was Pepper’s turn to frown. “Don’t tell me they called you again today?”

 

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” She turned her frown on him and he pouted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her in closer. “Do we have to talk about this right now? You’re finally off work. Shouldn’t we celebrate that?”

 

She laughed, but she did drop the subject. That particular conversation could wait until the morning. Or longer. It could definitely wait longer.

 

***

 

_ “I’m sorry, the person you are trying to contact is not currently available. You have reached the inbox of: Tony Stark. Please leave your message at the sound of the beep.” _

 

“Stark, for God’s sake, this is the third time you’ve done this, just pick up the phone. This is not a conversation you can continue ignoring. The…”

 

Tony rolled over in his bed and looked at the time. A little past 11 AM. He thought absently,  _ How many messages has Fury left by now _ ? Then he pulled the pillow over his face. If he stayed in bed, he didn’t have to check.

 

“Sir, I really must recommend that you get up,” said FRIDAY. He groaned. “There are 3 new messages from Director Fury waiting for you to listen to them.”

 

“Where’s Pepper?” Tony asked, rather than acknowledge the urgency of the calls he was ignoring.  _ Come on, Pep, give me an excuse, something else to do. _

 

“Ms. Potts has left the premises already. I believe she has started work, as  _ she _ generally cooperates with the usual scheduling of a weekday.”

 

There was an emphasis on the word “she” that was hard to miss. Sometimes he really regretted making his AIs with the ability to give him attitude. How could a faceless voice deliver a side-eye so well? Well, they had to get it from somewhere. “Yeah, yeah. Alright. Play the first message.”

 

All of the messages said the same thing: Pick up, call back, talk to them.

 

“What else is on today’s agenda, FRI?” Surely Pepper had scheduled an appearance at some meeting or other, any event that could get him out of this.

 

“Let me see. You’re very busy doing... nothing. Totally free. How wonderful.”

 

Tony raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Perfect.”

 

By 11:30 AM Tony was ready to call Fury back. Instead he suited up, and headed out. Maybe it was stupid, but he found he would rather have this conversation face to face. It wasn’t until he was already flying over the city that he realized he didn’t know where to go. He sighed and set the suit to hover.

 

“Hey, you want to talk, where should we meet? Is the Triskelion still out of the picture? Send the coordinates to FRIDAY and I’ll see you there.” For once he was the one leaving the message. Fury responded with a text consisting of a series of numbers that Tony plugged into his GPS system.

 

He landed outside a coffee shop. He double-checked the coordinates, but he was definitely in the right place. Tony shrugged and moved to go inside before remembering the suit. He stepped out of it, closing it behind him, and sent it back to the tower without him. Maybe it’d give some tourists a thrill on the way.

 

Nick Fury was waiting for him at a table against the back wall, as Tony could have predicted; it gave him the best view of the place, which was sure to be something constantly on the mind of someone who had survived so many attempts on his life. He slid into the booth to sit across from him.

 

Fury greeted him with an irritated, “Well, it’s about time.” Actually, he said something a little stronger, but Tony ignored it.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m here.” Tony drummed his fingers on the table. “Do they take your order in this place? Or should I go up to the counter?”

 

“Stay. Talk.” Fury leaned in, resting his arms on the table between them. “I know you have the information we want. Why don’t you make this easy on both of us and just tell me?”

 

“Tell you what?” He was stalling, and he knew that Fury knew it.

 

“Tony. You understand that it's a matter of legality. SHIELD has to register him. After--”

 

“He's a minor,” Tony said. “What about his right to privacy? Journalists don't name minors in their articles.”

 

“Journalists aren't acting on the Accords,” Fury said grimly. “You have the information we're looking for. If you'd just tell us, life would be a lot easier for everyone. If you won't cooperate, we'll have to go around you.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

 

“It's a fact. Good day, Stark.”

 

Fury stood to leave, but the sound of Tony’s snicker stopped him. “What?”

 

“Nothing. Just…” He leaned forward with a smile that was only half a smirk. “You know you sound like a two-bit villain from an old movie? Yeah?”

 

Incredibly, that got Fury to crack a smile of his own. “Pretty sure I’m not the one resisting government business, but I’ll grant that.”

 

He left, and Tony was alone with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He looked around. “Where is that waiter?”


	2. Chapter 2

“So are you going to be free this weekend? Or do you have plans already?” Ned asked as Peter dumped his books in his locker.

 

“I think so. Free, that is. I’m free. I’m not going to any Hanukkah parties or anything. I mean, I’d have to check the, you know, internship--” Ned nodded so vehemently it was surprising his head didn’t fall off right there-- “but I think I can manage a few hours off. Why?”

 

“Uh, because The Last Jedi is finally going to be out? Duh?”

 

Peter smacked his forehead. “Dude, obviously, I can’t believe I forgot. Alright, so I’ll meet you at the Cinemart? What showing do we want to catch?”

 

“Movie plans?” MJ had appeared behind them without either of them noticing. “If it’s Wonder Woman, I’m in.”

 

Ned frowned. “Man, is that even still showing? And haven’t you seen it like, seventeen times by now?”

 

“Eleven dollars is a small price to pay for viewing perfection on the big screen,” she said calmly, “and no, just four. Soon to be five, because I’m going again this weekend. With the two of you.”

 

“Come on, MJ, it’s the beginning of  _ senior year _ , you really want to start that off watching the same old movie for the fifth time?” Ned shook his head. “Nope. We are  _ not _ missing opening weekend of Episode VIII. Not even for what is arguably the best superhero movie of all time.”

 

“You can’t flatter my choice just to turn it down anyway.” MJ scowled and went on scathingly, “Just because you would rather stare at  _ Kylo Ren _ than--”

 

“Guys!” Peter interrupted. “Why not both?”

 

He could see them both thinking it over. “Okay,” said MJ finally. But Ned didn’t look as sold.

 

“Two tickets each? Who’s paying? And what about snacks?”

 

“We’ll smuggle some in,” said MJ immediately, as though this were obvious. “Peter’s weirdly good at knowing when the ushers are coming.”

 

Ned looked at Peter. “Seriously?”

 

He shrugged. It had only been once, when she’d dragged him to the Hidden Figures movie earlier that year. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it, or the thrill of eating popcorn illicitly. He couldn’t help it if his spider-sense helped him avoid the law sometimes rather than uphold it. Peter figured he was kind of owed a little leeway. The vigilante lifestyle had to come with  _ some _ perks, right? He wasn’t planning on making a habit of it, though; he doubted Aunt May would see things that way if he were caught.

 

“Hey, I can cover your second ticket if you want. Cinemart's like five blocks from me, I don't need to spend a MetroCard fare getting there--” Peter started to offer, but Ned was already shaking his head.

 

“Nah, that's less than three dollars, dude, you can't.”

 

“It's fine, I can ask May for an advance on my allowance or something. Maybe--” Peter stopped. He had been about to suggest asking Mr. Stark, which was weird, and would also be hard to explain to MJ. An intern wouldn't ask his boss to pay for a friend's movie ticket. So why was he considering it?

 

“Don't be absurd. I'll pay for the Wonder Woman tickets. It's because of me the two of you are even going.” MJ crossed her arms, and the boys knew not to argue further when she got that look in her eyes.

 

***

 

There was another message waiting for Tony. Couldn't he have one day without this hassle? He was in the middle of planning an addition to the kid's suit. Attempt 14 wasn't going well, and he was considering scrapping it. Sighing, sinking into a chair, he played the file.

 

“Tony. Meet me at the Triskelion two hours from now if you still want to talk this through.” The message cut off abruptly. Tony shook his head, but he was already planning his route.

 

When he arrived he was greeted by a scowling Nick. The meeting was off to a great start. Nick pulled Tony off into a secluded office and closed the door behind them. “Have a seat,” he said, and it was almost polite.

 

Tony sat. “What now?” he asked, irritated at having been interrupted. “I’ve got something else to do, something I’ve been working on, so can we wrap this up?”

 

“What  _ now _ ?” Nick repeated, clearly incensed, although Tony had no idea what he had done to provoke this. Besides ignoring multiple messages. Whoops. Yeah, that was probably it. “ _ Now _ I have to remind you that you were the one to back the Accords. You knew what that meant, and you supported it, and now you’re turning around and telling me that you don’t want to follow them? No. Wait. Not even that. You won’t tell me anything, because you won’t  _ talk  _ to me about this.”

 

Tony folded his arms. “Remind me, who was the one who walked out when I met you to talk about this? I tried cooperating and you left five seconds into the conversation, for... for dramatic effect or something, I don’t know. You can’t pin all of this on me.”

 

Nick sat down heavily across from Tony and, to the latter’s surprise, placed his head in his hands. He groaned. It was a minute before he spoke. “Okay. I’ll give you that.”

 

“Nick… You okay?” Tony was worried. This wasn’t like Fury. He reached an arm out to put it on Fury’s shoulder, but Nick shoved his hand away.

 

“Get off,” he grumbled, and Tony felt a little better. “Didn’t know you were my mother, Stark.”

 

Tony raised his arms apologetically. “Just wondering what’s going on with you,” he said. “This past year can’t have been easy.”

 

Nick rubbed his eye. “Tell me about it. You think redoing this building after the whole HYDRA business was fun? How about cleaning out the operatives and getting SHIELD restarted? While Thaddeus Ross angles to take over everything himself? God, I hate that guy. What was I saying?”

 

Tony shrugged. “Something about Ross?”

 

Nick snapped his fingers and mumbled something Tony was glad Peter wasn’t there to hear. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he had probably said worse in front of the kid. “Right. Ross wants in on this Accords business with Spiderman. He’s very interested in your kid.”

 

“He’s not mine,” Tony said, probably for the twelfth time that day. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you guys the ones who keep saying that to the tabloids?”

 

“We don’t need to, Stark, everyone’s thinking it. If you had to blame someone, though, my money is on Barton.”

 

Tony made a mental note to call on Clint and tell him to shut his mouth. Maybe he could take Peter to meet Laura and the kids. He had a feeling they’d get along great. Then he noticed the path of his thoughts and scowled.  _ Shut up, _ he told Clint in his head, but it was himself he was annoyed at. He was making plans for… for  _ playdates  _ now? Pepper might have been right.

 

“The point is,” Nick said, interrupting Tony’s train of thought, “whether he’s yours or not, he is your responsibility. That’s down to your choice to bring him into this, and that means you’re the one SHIELD will be working with. Whether that’s through me or through Ross is dependent on your cooperation. If you aren’t willing to work this out with me, Ross has been authorized to take this over.”

 

“So? What’s the difference to me? I mean, come on, Nick. Practically speaking, what changes if it’s Ross on my heels instead of you? No offense, but one SHIELD agent is pretty much the same as another.”

 

“No. Trust me, Tony. You don’t want Ross after you. I like you most of the time. He doesn’t.”

 

“Shocking, considering how pretty I am,” said Tony, and Nick ignored him.

 

“The implementation of the Accords has taken top priority now that HYDRA is out of the picture. The fiasco last year is the only reason we’ve taken so long to get around to this. You can thank Steve’s assassin buddy for the past year of Spiderman going uninvestigated. But that ends now.”

 

At the mention of the Winter Soldier, Tony’s hands had unwittingly formed fists in his lap. He fought to keep his voice even. “Yeah. I’ll be sure to thank him if I see him again.”

 

Nick wasn’t having it. “ _ Mister _ Stark, you--”

 

Tony cut him off with a raised finger. “No. No, no.” He pointed. “You don’t call me that.”

 

Fury didn’t understand and Tony wasn’t going to explain why he didn’t want Peter’s name for him coming out of other people’s mouths. It was enough that Fury was looking angry again and Tony’s adrenaline was increasing and the tension in the room had suddenly skyrocketed.

 

“Would you get  _ over _ yourself?” Fury hissed. “This isn’t about you!”

 

People loved to tell him that. He remembered four years ago, the Avengers’ first team up. Probably their least disastrous, not that that was saying much.  _ How is this now about me? _ he’d asked, and Steve replied,  _ I’m sorry, isn’t everything? _ And everyone laughed and no one thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t actually care about himself more than others. Or at all.

 

Tony scowled. “You think I don't know that? I-- whatever. The bottom line is, Spiderman's a kid, and the government is supposed to respect his privacy. I'm not going to stand here and argue with anyone over this, I have better things to do with my time. Are we done here?”

 

Fury held Tony's gaze for a long moment. “I guess so,” he said finally. “But I'm not looking forward to this.”

 

“This, being… what? What's the plan of action now? I'm not cooperating, you gotta grab the kid off his patrol. Is that what Ross is spreading? Because let me tell you, if you and your people so much as  _ touch _ Spiderman and I find out, you're going to need to reconstruct the building all over again.”

 

Fury didn't blink. “I'm afraid that's classified information, Stark. And if you aren't working with us, I don't believe I'm authorized to fill you in.”

 

Tony swore quietly. “You know what? I  _ am _ working with SHIELD. But I'm not turning Spiderman over to an administration that's already been infiltrated by HYDRA agents, alright? Sounds reasonable. Makes sense.”

 

“So you're playing that card now. Huh. Didn't think you had it in you.”

 

“There's a lot you don't seem to think I'm capable of,” said Tony, remembering an illicit scan or two. “Do I have to remind you of, oh, I don't know,  _ everything _ Stark Industries has given SHIELD and the city? Or the Battle of New York? Or--”

 

“Or Ultron,” Fury cut in. “Or Obadiah Stane, or Extremis, or any other case when your judgment was off base. Hell, you were a war profiteer before Afghanistan. Face it, Tony, yours aren't always the safest hands.”

 

The blow told. Tony felt the words like shrapnel, digging into his weak spots, painful and not wrong. And that made it worse. He'd thought of all of these things himself. How could he argue?

 

“You know what? Fine. You do your thing and I won’t get in your way. But as soon as you go near that kid you are going to have hell unleashed on you. Have a great day.” Tony saluted, sarcastic and mocking, and left without bothering to call the suit back. He'd rather walk than wait around here any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker is Jewish and you can pry that out of my cold dead hands!! Also, Wonder Woman would NOT still be playing that weekend, but I did so much research for the rest of that scene that I gave myself permission to do it anyway. ;)  
> I hope you all enjoyed the update!


	3. Chapter 3

Delmar’s was still rebuilding, so Peter had to make do with one of the other corner shops littering the area. Their coffee wasn’t as good, though. He just hoped they would be able to make May’s order the way she liked it. His own order had so much sugar in it he would only just barely be able to taste the coffee itself, so it wouldn’t matter.

 

He waited in line, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on,” he muttered, glancing at his watch. He wasn’t late yet, but he was a little behind schedule, and he wouldn’t be able to swing across the city carrying two cups of coffee. Why was everyone in front of him so  _ slow _ ? Delmar’s never had a line like this. Just another reason it was way better.

 

“So you heard about it?” some guy behind him said, and the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck rose. He wasn’t sure if it was spider sense or just intuition. Maybe even just curiosity? He tried not to look like he was listening. It couldn’t hurt to hear what they were saying.

 

The guy’s friend slapped him on the back. Peter was watching them now in the reflection of the glass counter. Hey, that meant he was almost at the front of the line. “Yeah, man, of course I did! Iron Man himself, dude.”

 

“Right here!” whispered the first guy. “Could’ve been standing where I am right now! So cool!”

 

“The coolest,” agreed his friend.

 

Peter hid his grin as best as he could. For a split second he let himself imagine the look on their faces if they found out who was in the coffee shop with them right now. He’d have to settle for Mr. Stark’s when Peter told him about this.

 

Actually, why was Mr. Stark visiting a coffee shop? He had bots at the tower for that sort of thing. Granted, DUM-E sometimes put near-fatal ingredients into anything edible, but Mr. Stark didn’t need to come out here for coffee. Peter was so deep in thought he didn’t realize it was his turn until the person behind him poked him in the back.

 

“Oh! Sorry,” Peter stammered, and gave his and May’s orders in a jumble of words. The barista blinked at him.

 

“You wanna say that again?” he said, looking amused.

 

Peter blushed and repeated himself slower. Why couldn’t the floor swallow him? When he had the coffee, he left the shop, and only then did it occur to him that maybe the line was because Mr. Stark had been spotted there. In which case, Peter had a complaint to lodge.

 

In the meantime, he had somewhere to be. Peter squinted into the distance. Was that his train? Oh, man. He couldn’t even run for it, with his hands taken up by full coffee cups. He’d have to catch the next one. He would almost certainly be late.

 

By the time Peter got back to the apartment, he was seventeen minutes and forty-seven seconds late. May was waiting by the door; the instant he knocked (by kicking the door, since his hands were full), she pulled it open and scowled, hands on her hips.

 

“And what time do you call this, hmm?”

 

Peter offered her a cup. She kept up the act for a full three seconds longer before giving in. “Your bribe has pleased the guard,” May said, gesturing grandly. “You may enter.”

 

He laughed and followed her inside, dropping his backpack on the ground as they went.

 

“Hey, pick that up, you hooligan,” she said, and as Peter went back to get his bag she tried to take a sip of the coffee he’d handed her. May spluttered. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

“This is yours,” she said, gagging. “Little heathen.”

 

Peter grinned at his aunt. “Sugar is good for me. Science says so.”

 

“Science, or your sweet tooth?” She poked him and swapped their cups. May took a tentative sip, as if he could somehow have ordered two of his own coffee and forgotten hers altogether. “Oh, that’s better. Miss the train?”

 

“Yeah, there was a line at the coffee shop,” Peter said, and paused to chug down half of his coffee at once. Ahh, sweet, sweet sugary coffee, just what he needed. It was even still warm. Well, not really, but he could imagine it once had been hot, and that was good enough. Peter drank the rest of it in one gulp, then stuck his tongue out at the grimace on May’s face. “Apparently there was a celebrity sighting there recently.”

 

“Oh yeah?” May said idly, turning away and taking another sip of her coffee. May had never cared much for this sort of thing. “What are you thinking for dinner?”

 

“Yup. Imagine, Iron Man in that very coffee shop. It’s almost as good as meeting him.” He smirked.

 

May rolled her eyes, smiling. “Don’t be smug. You were still late.”

 

“But it wasn’t my fault!” Peter protested. “Come on. Just this once. Please?”

 

“You say that every time,” but he knew she would always give in to his pleading. This time she made him wait for a few seconds before admitting defeat at the sight of the puppy eyes. It was a time-honored strategy, and it played its part well. But he didn’t need to try too hard; this was a routine both of them knew by heart. “Alright, fine. What’s it going to be tonight?”

 

“ _ Empire _ ,” Peter said immediately.

 

“But you’ve seen that seven times this month,” she didn’t say. Nor, “What, again? Don’t you have that memorized?” Not even, “Why don’t we try something new this time?”

 

No, his Aunt May proved once again that she was the best. “Of course. The new one’s out now, isn’t it. You’ve gotta rewatch the classics before you can see that. That’s just common sense.”

 

He nodded enthusiastically. “The new one is coming out on Friday, actually, so Ned and MJ and I are going to see it this weekend. And Wonder Woman, again.”

 

“That MJ has good taste,” May said, and he loved that she could immediately tell what had happened. “What’s this one called again? ‘The Final Force?’ ‘The Ultimate Sith?’”

 

“The Last Jedi,” he said, groaning, “I’ve told you a million times…”

 

She reached out and ruffled his hair. “Yes, you have. And you’re going to need to say it another million. Let’s see if I can remember which one’s Luke this time.”

 

Peter knew she was messing with him, but he said anyway, “The blond one, May. The one with the lightsaber. He’s the main character.”

 

“Oh, is he? Not the handsome one in the vest?” She grinned at him. “Personally, I think the princess should be the main character. You think I could pull off that hairdo?”

 

“Leia’s pretty great,” he conceded. “And I’d like to see you try.” They finished their coffee and May put a TV dinner in the microwave while Peter got the disk ready. It was going to be a good night.

 

***

 

Tony wasn’t having a good night. Pepper was busy again, Rhodey was away, and he was sick with worry about Peter. Fury hadn’t called him since their meeting at the Triskelion, and he hadn’t heard from Peter in a while. But he was unsure if he should call the kid. What if somehow SHIELD was listening, or tracing the call, or using him in whatever way to track down Spiderman?

 

He rubbed his forehead. He was being paranoid. Ridiculous. SHIELD wasn’t hacking his phone lines. They couldn’t, for one thing. He was too good for that. But that didn’t mean it was perfectly safe, and he couldn’t risk it. Which meant he’d been cut off from Peter now too. Who was supposed to listen to him rant about clean energy or positrons or artificial intelligence or whatever?

 

At that moment a call lit up his phone screen. Caller ID said it was a shielded number, which he took as a really lame way of saying it was Fury. Why couldn’t he just say  _ blocked _ like everyone else? Also: “How did Fury get this number?” Tony muttered. “Rhodey, if this was you, I’ll kill you, I swear...”

 

But he picked up.

 

“Tony. Think I've found a loophole of sorts. The Accords demand a record of superpowered activities. If your kid goes inactive I think I might be able to keep them off your back.”

 

Fury paused for Tony to process this. “What are you saying?”

 

“Thought you were a genius, Stark. It’s simple. I’ll say it slowly so that big brain of yours can keep up: If Spiderman stops  _ being _ Spiderman, there’s no Spiderman to register. No problem for you and your kid.”

 

His first thought was that Peter wouldn’t like this. “How am I supposed to convince him to quit? He loves this hero gig. I’m working on another suit upgrade for him. Why would he buy this?”

 

Tony couldn’t see Fury but he could almost hear the shrug. “That’s up to you. Word of advice: don’t mention SHIELD’s involvement. It won’t end well, especially if Ross finds out you’ve let something slip. Keep all this to yourself. Things get messy when that name gets invoked.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Tony grumbled. “So--”

 

Fury had hung up on him. Tony stared at the phone. Now what?

 

He called Pepper, hoping it would go through, but no. Her voicemail picked up. “Pepper Potts, Stark Industries, leave a message.”

 

“Hey, Pep. Sorry, you’re probably in a meeting. I’ll talk to you later, sweetie.” He hung up and planted his face in his hands. Rhodey?

 

“Colonel James Rhodes. I’m unavailable. What’s the deal?” Tony hung up.

 

Even Happy didn’t pick up, which was weird until Tony remembered that he was probably dealing with the shipment issues from the mess the night of Peter’s homecoming. Everyone was busy. He’d have to do this on his own.

 

For a second, he contemplated calling one of the Avengers, but who would he call?

 

He ignored the flip phone he was suddenly very aware of. The rogue Avengers didn’t need to hear about his problems with Spiderman. Half of them had fought him. They didn’t get to be involved here. Anyone who had raised a hand against Peter didn’t have the right to give any input regarding his wellbeing. Besides, this wasn’t the sort of thing they should be called in for. Tony refused to consider the idea that he was uncomfortable admitting his hypocrisy to them, but he couldn’t convince himself that it was untrue. He was hiding Peter from the Accords like Steve had hidden Barnes, wasn’t he? He couldn’t call Steve and confess to that. No, the flip phone would remain unused.

 

Bruce was still missing. Thor? Nat? Tony couldn’t see himself asking either of them for advice about this. And who knew what Clint was up to these days. He wasn’t going to interrupt the retired life for a question about teenage vigilantes and SHIELD protocol.

 

Tony ran through his choices again and sighed. Actually, yes, he was.

 

“Clint,” Tony said aloud as he typed the letters of the name into his phone. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but why not? He’d exhausted all of his other options, anyway. “Come on, pick up, pick up, answer your phone, pick up...”

 

The call went through. “Tony?” Clint sounded like he had just been woken up. “This had better be important.”

 

“Sorry,” he said, instantly regretting this. “It’s-- it’s not world-threatening, or anything. We don’t need you to come in. Didn’t mean to wake you, you can go back to sl--”

 

“Nah,” and there was a rustling like sheets being disturbed, like someone getting out of bed, which was probably exactly what was happening on the other end. “Laura’s just gone to sleep. I was just going to--”

 

“Like I said, go back to sleep, it’s fine really,” said Tony, desperately hoping now that Clint would listen to him and hang up. He had no idea how to have this conversation. But why didn’t he just hang up himself? Before he could attempt to answer this to himself, Clint was answering.

 

“Not happening, Tony. You called, I wanna know why. What is it, what’s going on?”

 

Tony gave in. “It’s about Spiderman.”

 

“The kid? He’s got a mean swing, from what I hear. What’s up with him?”

 

“SHIELD wants his name, something to do with the Accords. They want his identity so they can register him. I’m not willing to give it to them.”

 

Clint scoffed. “You’re the one who signed, Tony. Don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet now.”

 

“It’s not the same! He’s a minor and-- you know what?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not having this conversation again. Fury says if Spiderman stops being Spiderman, if he quits the superhero business, then he’ll-- Fury-- he’ll get off my case about it.”

 

“So tell him to stop,” Clint said, but now he was clearly eating something.

 

“First off. Stop chewing, or I’ll hang up. Disgusting. And secondly, what reason do I give? I can’t tell him SHIELD said so.”

 

“Hmm. Alright, why are you calling me about this?” Clint had stopped crunching.

 

Tony threw his hands up. He stood and began pacing like he had been itching to do for an hour. “I don’t know! You have kids, what do you know about them? How do you talk to teenagers?”

 

“I don’t have teenagers.”

 

“You know what I meant, Birdbrain. What am I supposed to tell Spiderman?”

 

Clint was silent for a moment. “Well, I have no idea. Think of something. I’m going to bed.”

 

Dial tone. Tony could have screamed. “Thanks for nothing,” he told the phone, and fell backward onto the sofa. Now what?

 

He supposed there was nothing left to do but tell Peter. His thumb hovered over the call button. Tony paused. Should he? What was he going to say? He decided to wing it, like most things.

 

As it rang, Tony imagined the Star Wars theme going off in his kid’s pocket. Peter would be reaching for it now, and…

 

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice was hushed. “Why are you calling me?”

 

Tony glanced at his watch. “Oh, sh-- shoot. I didn’t realize it was late. Why are you up?”

 

“It’s not late! It’s only eleven!” Peter was indignant, and Tony smiled indulgently.

 

“It’s too late for me to be calling you, anyway. Get rest, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

 

Tony hoped he hadn’t ruined the kid’s sleep for the night. May would kill him. He hung up and realized there was no way he was going to sleep, either. Great.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Meet me at the coffee place after school. -TS _ . Peter read the text again just to make sure he hadn’t missed something. Which coffee place? Before he could ask, his phone buzzed again.  _ Your new one. The one with the long lines and the cute baristas. _

 

“Mr. Stark,” he grumbled, but he knew he would go. School dragged by, but even English couldn’t last forever and at last he was free from old dusty poetry and on his way to meet up with Iron Man. God, that was still so cool.

 

Mr. Stark was trying to avoid attention by sitting away from the window, but it wasn’t working very well. Every patron in the place was pretending not to be looking at him. Well, not everyone. Peter spotted three people discreetly taking selfies. Tony was obviously ignoring them.

 

Peter slid into the seat next to Tony. “Hey. What did you want to talk to me about that was so important you called me at eleven?”

 

Tony waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s start with why you were up at eleven last night to pick up.”

 

This got him an eye roll. “Mr. Stark, I’m not a kid. I don’t have a seven o’clock bedtime, you know. And I was busy!”

 

“With homework? Or with your… extracurricular activities?”

 

“The, uh, the second one. And keep your voice down, alright?” Peter glanced around. “Someone could hear you. Everyone’s looking. Why did you choose here to meet up? And why were you here the other day? The line was so bad I missed my train. I was late to meet Aunt May for movie night.”

 

“Great,” Tony said, and Peter knew he was only half-joking when he added, “Another reason for her to be mad at me.”

 

“Seriously, why’d you come here? You’ve got better coffee at home than this place serves.”

 

“But is it better than Delmar’s?” Tony quirked an eyebrow.

 

“No,” said Peter immediately, honor-bound to defend the best sandwich place in Queens. “This isn’t Delmar’s.”

 

“Geez, can’t a guy get a coffee without arousing suspicion from Spiderman?”

 

“ _ Shh! _ ” Peter hissed. “Are you crazy? What if someone heard you?”

 

“Relax, kid, no one’s listening. And I’ve got a jammer active just in case, for any bugs that might’ve been placed here since yesterday. But that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Peter frowned, puzzled. “Coffee shop bugs?”

 

“No, the whole secret identity thing.” Tony sighed. “You’re right, this is a bad place to have this conversation. You want to continue this at the tower?”

 

“I want to hear this,” Peter said. He didn’t like the look on Mr. Stark’s face, and the fact that he seemed to want to drag this out and avoid it made Peter want to face it head on. “Now.”

 

“Alright, then. I think you should quit.”

 

Tony spread his hands flat against the table in front of them. Peter stared at them, trying to process the words. “You… what?”

 

“I think Spiderman should retire until he’s out of high school, at least. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now and--”

 

Peter pushed his chair back and stood. “Why would you say that?” His voice was a little too loud, and someone glanced over at him before losing interest. “Mr. Stark?”

 

“It’s just a little too much, don’t you think? You’ve been juggling your schoolwork and your social life and your nighttime activities. Something’s bound to give soon. Not to mention what you said before, someone could find out, and then what? They go after May, or Ned, or anyone else you care about, all because you care about them but not enough to stop--”

 

“Stop,” Peter said, unintentionally repeating Tony’s words, not realizing it because his mind was full of tangled emotions that were making it hard to think. “No. No, I can do this!”

 

He sat back down in an attempt to appear more reasonable. He could be mature. He was sixteen now, practically an adult, almost an Avenger. He didn’t need to make a scene in a coffee shop to win an argument.

 

“I thought we agreed, after homecoming, that--”

 

Tony cut him off, and that was so unusual that it left Peter dumbstruck. “No, we didn’t. I said you could keep the suit if you were responsible with it.”

 

“You were going to let me into the Avengers,” whispered Peter. He didn’t want to think about the way his fingers were trembling in his lap, or the knots forming in his stomach and throat, or the slight blurriness in his eye that did  _ not _ come from tears. He would not cry here. He wouldn’t. Not in front of M-- not in front of everyone.  _ Come on, Peter _ .

 

“You said yourself that was a test, kid,” Tony said, and it was getting hard for Peter to breathe.

 

“Please don’t,” he heard himself say, and he hated how pathetic he sounded. How could he convince Tony Stark to let him play at being a superhero when he couldn’t even be cool as himself? “Please.”

 

“Kid,” Tony began, and that was the last straw.

 

“Stop calling me kid!” Peter whisper-shouted, still worried someone might overhear, but nearly overturning his chair as he stood up too fast. “I’m not a kid!”

 

He ran out of the shop, knowing that Mr. Stark wouldn’t be able to follow him immediately because he’d be seen. Being a nobody out of costume had its perks, though very few.

 

Peter caught his train and pushed past May when she opened the door. He threw himself onto the bottom bunk of his bed.

 

“You okay?” he heard May call, but he shoved his face into a pillow to shut her out. When he didn’t reply, she came into the room. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

He shook his head vehemently. She paused, hovering next to the edge of the bed. “Can I sit down here?”

 

Peter hesitated and then nodded. If he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t force him to. But he could use someone stroking his hair.

 

May perched herself next to his head and pulled him toward her lap. Slowly, gently, she pulled her fingers through his hair and hummed an old song he’d heard her sing before. She didn’t say anything. They remained like that for a while before May got a call she had to take and she left him to his own devices.

 

On his own, Peter was able to admit to himself that he was hurt. What had his showdown with the Vulture meant if Mr. Stark still didn’t think he was capable of being Spiderman? Or maybe capable wasn’t the right word, maybe he didn’t think he was  _ worthy _ of being Spiderman? What if he took the suit away again?

 

Peter shook his head and winced as the beginnings of a headache sprang up. A second later, it was so bad that tears sprang into his eyes, and that was all that he needed for the flood to be released. He sobbed, drawing his knees up to his chest and clutching at the pillow because he needed something to hold onto, something he could feel against his skin. Something to hold him here, because his thoughts kept replaying the conversation he’d just had, and it was awful.

 

Mr. Stark didn’t think he should be Spiderman anymore. The worst part was, maybe he was right. Peter was only sixteen. He was still behind on his geography homework and worried about his driver’s license; how could anyone look at him and think he should battle criminals regularly? And in secret, too. Juggling a normal life with the life of a costumed crusader, a teenage vigilante who sometimes forgot to pack lunch when May wasn’t available to do it for him. Who was he kidding? He was nothing more than a kid crying in his bed who sometimes did the right thing, not always, and not on his own.

 

But then Peter remembered how he’d held his own against actual supervillains, and his nerve started to come back. He didn’t need the suit to be Spiderman; he’d proven that. He didn’t need anyone’s permission to be Spiderman. He didn’t need anything but himself and a little bit too much determination. And his powers, but they weren’t going anywhere.

 

So what was stopping him? He could still be Spiderman even without Iron Man’s stamp of approval. He’d strike it out on his own again. Maybe bring in Ned, because he was right, having a guy in the chair was definitely a superhero necessity. But independent of and from the Avengers and any of their members, with their stupid  _ bedtimes _ and condescending nicknames.

 

Peter wiped at his face angrily. He’d show him. He’d prove to Mr. Stark that he could be a hero, again, and as many times as it took for it to sink in that Spiderman wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Just… maybe not right this minute. He was ready to pass out. The Spidey suit could be hung up for one night. Peter couldn’t even climb out of bed to take his shoes off before his eyes were closing. His last thought before drifting off was that he would need to shower in the morning.

 

His first thought upon waking up was that he didn’t want to be awake. His second was that he should have been up ages ago. Daylight was filtering through his window and the color of it and the shadows it was casting were all wrong. What time was it? Peter grabbed his alarm clock and peered at it.

 

Within five minutes he was running out of the door, still pulling the last article of clothing on, a piece of untoasted bread clamped between his teeth, and his backpack dangling from one arm. No shower, and he was still in last night’s clothing. Why hadn’t May woken him?

 

He texted her once he was on the train. She responded with an emoji of the little yellow woman facepalming. “Sorry!!” she sent after it. “Wasn’t home!! GL w/ school!”

 

Peter checked his watch. It would be a miracle if he made it to school before lunch at this rate. What was the holdup?

 

At that moment the train gave a  _ bing! _ “Ladies and gentlemen, we are delayed because of train traffic ahead of us…” Everybody groaned and checked timekeeping devices in unison. Peter bounced his leg so much he jostled the woman standing next to him.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, and his eye landed on the door between train cars. Surely nobody would notice if he slipped out…?

 

A moment later, he was clinging to the roof of a subway tunnel, looking down on the train below him full of people who couldn’t just sneak off their delayed vehicle. Peter pulled on the mask, though there was nothing he could do about the backpack; he needed to bring that to school. He crawled along the tunnel until he found a way to get aboveground and from there it was easy swinging across the city to school, where he ducked into a side street to change again.

 

Peter Parker. Part-time high school student, part-time subway surfer. He made a note to tell Ned sometime when there weren’t so many kids around. In the meantime he had to get to chemistry before it ended.

 

***

 

Tony had left the coffee shop feeling despicable. He’d made his kid feel like dirt, and for what? The government? Ugh. They had no right to make him hurt Peter.

 

The look on Peter’s face when he’d realized what Tony was saying… He couldn’t get it out of his head. Those wide eyes, so used to looking at Tony with a smile, now repaid for that with the equivalent of a slap. He’d taken Peter in and then shoved him away. He wouldn’t blame the kid if he never wanted to talk to Tony again.

 

Back in the tower, Tony rested his head in his hands. No, rested was too soft of a verb for what he was doing: pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes like that could undo what he had done, like that could unsay what he had told Peter.

 

Again and again, he saw Peter run out of the shop, run away from  _ him _ . He’d done that. Not Fury, not SHIELD, just him and his big mouth and penchant for speaking without thinking.

 

Pepper found him hunched over on the sofa and immediately sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

 

He responded with a grunt. “Very well communicated,” she said drily.

 

Tony sat up and stared at the ceiling, waiting for his vision to return instead of being overtaken by the swirling patterns that were the result of rubbing his eyes. “I messed up.”

 

She made a face, probably hoping to get him to laugh. “You?”

 

He leaned in to her, and she wrapped her arms around him. “Hey, hey… It’s okay. Whatever it is. It’ll be fine.”

 

“It will  _ not _ ,” he insisted, well aware that he was pouting but too sulky to stop.

 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” Pepper suggested, “and then you can pour us some of that liquor from the other night’s party and we’ll brainstorm drunk.”

 

“I ruined things with Peter,” he mumbled, curling toward her so his words ended up being spoken into her shoulder. “He’s mad at me now.”

 

“Oh, Tony,” said Pepper, tracing lazy circles on his back, “it was bound to happen eventually. He couldn’t worship the ground you trod on forever, he’s a teenager.”

 

Tony didn’t want to agree. It was easier to blame himself. “But it was my fault. I should’ve said it better. Shouldn’t have scared him off. Now he’s upset, he thinks I don’t trust him or something.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” she repeated.

 

He did. She frowned and  _ tsk _ ed at all the right moments, and at one point Pepper reached for his hand. He gave it to her without interrupting the story. When he was done, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and asked, “This is because of SHIELD?”

 

“Yeah.”   
  


“Then why couldn’t you just tell him? Say that it’s a matter of the Accords?”

 

Tony shrugged. “Fury said I couldn’t. Some classified garbage. Whatever. I couldn’t tell Pete, and now he’s angry with me.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll get over it. All kids have arguments with the adults in their lives. Peter will come around.”

 

But Peter didn’t show up at the lab that Sunday like they had been planning. Tony stood around, feeling stupid, periodically scanning the ceiling for sneaky spider kids, but nothing. Peter didn’t appear, and Tony was left waiting for hours. Surely he would come to see what Attempt 14 was looking like…? No.

 

Tony left the lab early. He sulked for the rest of the day. Pepper told him to call Peter, but what could he say? Tony couldn’t let him continue being Spiderman, and he couldn’t explain why not. So it was best if he just sucked it up and took the heat for this. Besides, there was no guarantee Peter would even pick up if he called. The thought stung.

 

He’d ruined things, like he always did. He didn’t voice the thought, because Pepper would try to reassure him, or Rhodey would get him to another therapist, and he didn’t want that. Tony didn’t admit it even to himself, but he wanted to stew in this guilt. He was supposed to be better for this kid than Howard was for him, but now Peter wasn’t even talking to him.

 

Pepper offered to call May, but Tony didn’t feel like getting yelled at over the phone, so he said no. May Parker was a wonderful woman, and very protective of Peter, and right now that meant she would be mad at him too. He didn’t want to picture Peter slumped in his bedroom, but immediately that was all he could think of. And there was no way to make this better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the drama rises... Please comment to let me know what you thought of this update!


	5. Chapter 5

Peter had had an idea. It was probably a terrible one.

 

It had all started when he’d heard rumors about why the MTA was acting worse than usual. At least half of the student body had been late that day. Dozens of buses and trains were being held up, and someone claimed to know why. High schoolers being high schoolers, as soon as one person was told, everyone was telling their friends.

 

He was walking in the hallway after third period when he overheard one girl’s whisper about  _ something something terrorist _ , and he stopped to pretend to tie his shoe.

 

“No way,” said her friend, tossing her hair. “You’re, like, such a liar. I literally don’t believe a word you ever say to me.”

 

“It’s true,” insisted the first girl. “Ellen told me she heard from Michael who got it from Scott, and  _ he  _ said that James said his bus was hijacked by, like, these thugs? With masks? And they had this weird symbol on their chest, I don’t know, it depends who you ask, but they definitely said they were working for some group. And that’s terrorists, right? I even asked Ms. Alrobbs and she agreed with me. So there.”

 

“You did  _ not _ ,” the friend began, but Peter was already moving on. His mind was racing. If there was a new group of terrorists, holding up the transportation of a major city, that could be worth bringing Spiderman into. And then he could prove himself to Mr. Stark again.

 

He had to tell Ned. The problem was that when he found Ned, MJ was with him. Peter skidded to a halt. “Hi,” he said, with an awkward half-wave he could have kicked himself for a second later. “Uh, guys? I got to go, m-my aunt texted me, so… So could you just, you know, tell fourth period where I’ve gone? Thanks!”

 

Peter thought he saw Ned’s eyes widen, but he couldn’t stick around to make sure he understood. “We’re not in fourth period with you!” MJ shouted after him, but he pretended not to hear and kept running.

 

As soon as he was out of range of the security cameras, he was pulling on his costume and leaving his bag and jacket webbed to the roof. With any luck, this one wouldn’t get stolen. He had to stop leaving them within reach. The roof seemed like a better plan.

 

It was only once he was swinging that he realized he had no idea where he was going to go now. Peter spotted a bus below him and figured that was as good a place as any to start. He dropped down to the top of the bus and hoped the passengers didn’t get jostled by the thud he’d made. From experience, though, he knew they would just blame a pothole and grumble about the roads in this part of town. If they noticed at all.

 

He was getting distracted. Spiderman was waiting to intercept terrorist activity. Peter Parker couldn’t be mentally complaining about bumpy bus rides. He flattened himself down to minimize the chance that he’d be seen from the street, and settled in.

 

He didn’t have to wait as long as he had expected to. Within three blocks of where he’d gotten on, a group of men in balaclavas was storming the doors of the bus. He jumped over the side of the bus.

 

“Hey, no need for that. They let you on for $2.75 with a MetroCard, you know. Available at any subway kiosk!” He stood with his hands on his hips, then lifted one to point. “There’s one over th--”

 

The criminal standing closest to him reached for the gun at his waist and Peter webbed up his holster quickly. But he wasn’t fast enough to stop all of them, and though he attached three people’s hands to their belts he missed the fourth, who drew his weapon.

 

“Don’t--” Peter started to say, but he wasn’t sure what quip he would pull now, and he never got a chance to finish it, because the bullet was already lodging itself somewhere in his chest and hurt quite a bit. He staggered back. “Ow.”

 

The rest of the group looked mildly panicked at this. “Let’s go!” said one, who must have been the leader, and they rushed off. Peter couldn’t see where they were going, because at some point he had apparently fallen over. He realized this by noticing that somehow all the buildings were sideways and upside down. And the sky was getting dark really quickly.  _ The winter afternoons here _ , he thought dimly,  _ Northern hemisphere in December... _ and then he didn’t think again for a while.

 

***

 

Tony wouldn’t have paid any attention to the quiet buzz of his phone had he not been waiting all day to hear it. He grabbed it off the table and unlocked it with eager fingers. From Peter?

 

He slumped. No. Some news alert about bus hijackings. He tossed his phone down again, disappointed. FRIDAY said, “Sir? Karen has an alert.”

 

Karen? What was Peter doing in the suit right now? He was supposed to be in class. And he was supposed to be giving up Spiderman. Tony waved for FRIDAY to continue. “What?”

 

“Life signs are dangerously low,” she said in that awful robotic calm, and Tony’s pulse was suddenly thundering in his ears.

 

He was on his feet in under a second. “FRIDAY! Suit me, now! Where is he?”

 

The Iron Man suit formed around him as he ran. They’d come a long way from his first suit-up. FRIDAY’s voice transferred to the HUD as the helmet closed. “Karen is reporting Spiderman’s location as…”

 

Tony flew as fast as he could, praying that there had been some mistake. Maybe this was a prank, a way for Peter to get him back. Could he have gotten that nerd friend of his to hack Karen again, to trick the suit into thinking Peter was injured, banking on the fact that Tony would hear of it from FRIDAY? Was he being fooled?

 

He hoped he was right. He hurried anyway.

 

When he flew into view of the corner FRIDAY had told him, his heart flew into his mouth. There was a crowd of people forming, their morbid curiosity drawing them to the small form laying spread out on the ground in the center of this haphazard circle. A figure in a terribly familiar red costume that looked a little  _ too _ red right now.

 

Tony swore and swooped down. “Everybody back up!” he shouted, and the citizens scrambled backward at the volume of his demand. “Get away from him!”

 

“Spiderman?” he asked, leaning in. The kid didn’t answer. Tony didn’t dare use his real name, not after all this fuss about his secret identity. “Alright, I’m picking you up, okay?”

 

There was still no reply. Tony scooped the tiny superhero up and held him in his arms bridal-style. He hovered vaguely upward. “FRIDAY, nearest hospital?”

 

But as he said it he was realizing that he couldn’t just bring Peter to an ordinary hospital. They’d want to take his mask off, for one thing. But mostly, they didn’t know how to treat people with healing factors. And who knew how the spider bite had affected his biology besides that. He was allergic to mint now, right? There was no way he could be treated like anyone else.

 

So a hospital was out of the question. The tower wasn’t equipped to handle a super’s medical emergency on this scale. Peter was losing more blood with every second Tony hesitated. There was nothing for it. He had to bring him to the one place Tony knew would be able to save him. The only place close enough and skilled enough. And discreet enough, probably.

 

“Sorry, kid. Triskelion it is.” Tony kept talking, hoping Peter would hear him and reply. Would just open his eyes. Tony poured as much power into the thrusters as he could.  _ Come on, come on, come on… _ “Almost there. We’re almost there. Any second, now, stay with me.”

 

They were at the Triskelion as soon as possible, but Tony wished it had been faster. Peter was starting to look pale, and the gauntlets were getting sticky with his blood, which made Tony sick. He rushed him through the doors. “Help,” he gasped, thrusting Spiderman’s limp form toward the nearest person. “Where do I bring him?”

 

The woman pointed mutely, and he ran that way. From there he followed the signage. Eventually he arrived at something labelled  _ Infirmary _ . He kicked the door open and stormed in. “Give him attention!” he yelled. “This boy needs medical attention  _ right now!" _

 

A team of doctors raced over and took Peter from Tony to set him down on a bed. He was still limp. His eyes were still closed. Tony was frozen.

 

“Excuse me,” said one doctor, pushing him out of the way, and he snapped back to himself.

 

“Of course,” Tony said, and he took a step back so as not to impede them from helping Peter. But he couldn’t bring himself to move away from Peter, or even to look away. He was scared even to  _ think _ of something other than Peter. If something happened to him… If their last conversation had been a fight…

 

_ No _ , he thought, and before he knew it he was saying it to himself, quietly but insistently. “No. No, no, come on, kid. You’ve pulled through worse than this. Get up. Give me that look, tell me you hate me, I don’t care, just look at me. Come on, Spiderman.”

 

He was holding his hands in fists and he was still in the armor. The blood on the fingers--  _ Peter’s blood _ \-- had smeared to the palms. Tony thought of washing it off. He couldn’t tear himself away from Peter. Eventually, someone brought him a chair so he could sit as he watched them work.

 

They were very good about leaving the mask on, once he’d reassured them that they would still be able to tell if he opened his eyes. They focused all their attention on the wound. Tony watched them remove bullet fragments and his chest tensed, both in sympathetic remembrance of shrapnel and because this was his fault as usual. Peter had been wearing his, Tony’s, suit. And it hadn’t protected him.

 

What use was it to have a tech genius armoring you if the stuff he made couldn’t even stop a bullet when you needed it to? Tony had to calm himself by imagining how he could improve the design further. Take care of more possible scenarios. Stop this from repeating. Attempt 15 would begin as soon as Peter recovered and Tony could get back to the lab.

 

Assuming Peter still wanted anything to do with Tony, and assuming he was still going to be Spiderman. Despite Fury’s instructions and Tony’s attempt to persuade him.

 

A thought struck Tony, and it made him feel worse than the sight of a doctor holding bloodied tongs over his kid. Had this happened because of that conversation? Was this the result of Peter trying to impress him? Was everything on his shoulders again?

 

He would have to ask when Peter woke up, he told himself, and ignored the tightness in his throat that made it into an  _ if _ instead of  _ when _ . “Don’t do that. Wake up, kid. I need you here.”

 

The infirmary door swung open again and the doctors didn’t respond but Tony had to look. It was Nick Fury. He strode toward Tony as though Peter weren’t lying there unmoving. How could he not care? It was his suggestion that had landed him in this position. Probably.

 

Tony crossed his arms, heedless of the way it spread the grime around. The suit could be cleaned. He needed Fury to see his… well, his fury. “Why are you here?”

 

“Last I checked, I was in charge of this facility,” Fury said lightly. “I heard tell of some… uninvited guests helping themselves to our medical staff. I came to check it out. Should’ve known it would be you, I suppose.”

 

He tipped a salute. Tony didn’t move. “You know what happened to him? He got shot. Someone  _ shot _ him.”

 

Fury lifted his hands. “Stark, listen, I get it. But I’m not going to say I’m surprised. There’s a reason he wasn’t supposed to be in active duty.”

 

“That reason has nothing to do with this,” Tony said, somehow even angrier than before. “You didn’t want him out there helping people without your people knowing his name. You weren’t concerned for his safety.”

 

“From the look of it, I can’t say you were either.”

 

Tony couldn’t believe Fury had said that. “Take it back.” His voice was too loud, and one of the people working on Peter glanced over at him. Tony lowered his volume; the last thing he wanted was to distract the doctors who could be saving his kid’s life. “You take that back right now.”

 

“Look, I’m just saying it was your job to get him to quit this whole superhero business. And he’s in the suit right now, so it looks like you didn’t do so great. Not to mention the part where you built the suit that he got shot in, and it doesn’t seem to have done him much good.”

 

Tony gritted his teeth. “Yeah,” he forced out. “So, what, you here to kick us out? Ban us from your medical facilities because he didn’t give up his secret identity? You’ll be killing him.”

 

“Relax, Tony. I’m here to negotiate.” Fury almost smiled. “Step into my office. We’ll have a talk.”

 

Tony cast a look at the bed that held Peter. “I can’t leave,” he said, not meaning to say it, but meaning it all the more for it. “Not until he’s okay.”

 

“He’ll be fine.” Fury draped an arm across Tony’s shoulders. “I promise, this is the best team this side of the Atlantic at  _ least _ . Your kid’ll recover just fine. I’ve seen worse and they all walked away. They’ll call you when he’s up.”

 

Reluctantly Tony allowed himself to be pulled away. He promised himself that he’d get back here as soon as he could. He would be there when Peter opened his eyes.

 

***

 

Peter knew he was asleep, but he couldn’t make himself wake up. He couldn’t do much of anything. His chest hurt, but not as much as it should.

 

Why did he think that? Why should his chest hurt? He tried to reach for it, but his hands couldn’t move. He cast his mind back. What did he remember?

 

Talking to Ned and MJ about leaving school. Catching a bus and riding on top. Seeing those-- oh. Peter’s eyes were closed, but he could see exactly what had happened. He wanted to call out, but his mouth wouldn’t obey him either. In slow motion, he watched it all unfold again.

 

The one whose gun he hadn’t reached. Drawing the gun, pointing it toward him. Pulling the trigger. A tiny explosion and an impact that hadn’t quite knocked him over. And then the pain.

 

Peter tried to scream. It didn’t work. He was stuck in this dream. Was it a dream? Was he awake and paralyzed? Had they given him something to make him like this?

 

Who did he mean by “they” in that sentence? And then Peter’s eyes started to open and he became aware that there were people with tools standing far too close to him, and he struggled.

 

“Whoa!” said someone. “He’s conscious. Up that dose, he’s going to move around, quick!”

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter tried to call, but it came out as something like “m’s s...k?” and no one understood. Something was being pumped into one of his arms and it was making him sleepy again, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. “No…”

 

“It’s okay,” someone murmured. “It’ll all be alright when you wake up properly.”

 

Peter didn’t know who that was, but it wasn’t Mr. Stark. The drugs were starting to take effect; he felt their pull on his eyelids. “M’kay,” he mumbled, and was asleep again.

 

This time, whatever they had given him worked. For a while, anyway. He didn’t feel anything. But he was still drifting in and out of enough consciousness to hear some things, sometimes, vague snippets of sentences.

 

“Should we… But what… Mask… Just a…” It sounded like an argument, almost. Peter wanted to tell them to stop fighting, but he couldn’t lift his head to say anything, and he was too drowsy to think too hard about it.

 

He wondered, dimly, half-awake, if he should be worried that he wasn’t properly asleep. But he didn’t really care, because whatever they were doing around his torso, it wasn’t hurting him. Besides, he didn’t want to be asleep. Asleep meant dreaming, and dreaming meant nightmares.

 

At the thought, he woke up a little more. He must have moved, because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. “Shh, kid, stay down. Jeez, what is it with him?” the voice continued, no longer talking to him, probably not realizing Peter could hear. “He won’t stay out no matter what we pump into his system. He just burns through this stuff. You think this comes cheap?”

 

Every word Peter was hearing only served to wake him up further. “Stop,” he tried to say, and it came out as a kind of moan. The hand on his shoulder tightened and his eyes were closed and he didn’t like this at  _ all _ . “Get off!”

 

Whatever sounds he made were evidently clear enough to be interpreted as unfriendly. The hand disappeared from his shoulder. “Can we up that dosage?” someone snapped. “This is the second time he’s woken up mid-surgery.”

 

Surgery? Peter supposed it was only logical, because he had been shot, and even a healing factor couldn’t do all the work. Not when he’d been hit from a few feet away-- which must have been why the suit hadn’t stopped it. Peter was struck by the thought that Mr. Stark must be blaming himself. He’d have to tell him not to. When he… when he woke up…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter this time! 5/10: Whoooa we're halfway there. It occurred to me, sometime since last update, that I forgot to point out that the title is from "Migraine" by Twenty One Pilots because it's the most Tony song I've ever heard and that particular line has always struck me as Irondad. Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought of this update!


	6. Chapter 6

Tony was offered a seat, but he shook his head. He was still in the armor. Still covered in Peter’s blood. The chair would either collapse or become filthy. He’d stand. Besides, this gave him the height advantage, which was always welcome. Fury shrugged and sat down himself.

 

“So, Tony. How are things?”

 

“Small talk doesn’t suit you,” Tony said tightly. His mind was still on Peter. Had they finished saving his life? Was he awake? Did he know that Tony wasn’t there? “What do you want?”

 

Fury smiled. It was a dry look on him. “I told you. I’m here to negotiate. You say Spiderman shouldn’t have to register with the Accords because he’s a minor. I want you to prove it to me.”

 

Tony blinked. “What?”

 

“Give me a solid argument why his age is a good reason for him to avoid registering, and I’ll pass on the message. If you can convince me, I’ll do the rest.”

 

“Why?” Tony couldn’t help but ask. “What changed?”

 

Fury shrugged. “Would you believe I had a change of heart all on my own?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Well, that’s the answer you’re getting. You want to tell me your argument, or not?”

 

Tony thought about it. “Shouldn’t you get a lawyer in here, or something? I hear there’s someone in Hell’s Kitchen who could handle this.”

 

“I don’t want to hear it from a lawyer. I want you to tell me. Why shouldn’t Spiderman register?”

 

“Just a minute,” Tony muttered, and he wished he weren’t in the suit so he could run his hands through his hair to help himself think. He balled one hand into a fist and bounced it against one leg as he paced. Back and forth, marshalling thoughts into words into sentences. Make a plan, execute it. State your case. It’s just an algorithm, Tony, just another program, a puzzle to solve. What’s the code? What are you going to say?

 

Finally he thought he had it. He popped the helmet open. He needed communication now, not intimidation. “First. Minors can’t sign legal documents. True or false?”

 

Nick looked almost amused. “True,” he said, inclining his head.

 

“So if a superpowered individual were underage, their legal guardian would have to sign. But guardians of this kind of kid are not always aware that their kid has… abilities. With me? Let me know if I have to slow down. You might want to take notes, I’ll be testing you on this next week. So! We’ve established that minors need their guardians to sign but not all of them know.”

 

Tony didn’t like to admit it, but he was getting into this performance. Those public speaking classes in college had paid off. Not to mention all the practice he had gotten with press releases. He knew how to work the crowd, even if that was one man sitting behind a desk.

 

“Now, in order to have minors registered, you-- or some other SHIELD representative. Whatever-- would need to  _ tell  _ the guardian in question that their kid is a super. Yeah?  _ No _ . Think about how people feel when it comes to supers. Not everyone wants a super for a kid, even if they’re out here being a hero and saving people and all that. And here comes the kicker: Not every superkid would be safe if their parents knew.”

 

Nick sat back in his seat as Tony leaned back onto his heels. Tony folded his arms behind him, the motion made only slightly awkward by the armored plating in the way. “Well?”

 

“Go on,” said Nick, his face unreadable. But Tony knew he was making good points. He forged on.

 

“In that case, outing the kid would be equivalent to endangering a minor, which is the last thing any of us want to do.” Tony’s gut clenched. How was Peter doing? Why hadn’t anyone called him back yet? How could he have let this happen? But he had to focus.

 

“The alternative suggestion is to let the kids sign for themselves, just for this one document. Not enough to create a dangerous precedent, or anything, just an exception to the usual age of adulthood or the technical term for this stuff. The paperwork is your department, not mine. But even I can tell you,” Tony said, looking Nick in the eye, “that there will be legal hell if you go this route. Not to mention the tricky part of navigating underage agreements. Where does it stop?”

 

“Elaborate on that,” Nick said. “Pretty sure I get where you’re coming from with that, go on.”

 

“Well. If there’s some sixteen-year-old, he’d get to sign, right? What about fourteen? Twelve? Nine? What, do we want to have seven-year-olds signing legal documents without requiring parental supervision or involvement?”

 

Fury nodded slowly. “Alright. So what are you recommending?”

 

“Minors don’t have to register,” Tony replied immediately. “No supers under 18 should be required to get involved in governmental affairs. If you can’t vote, you can’t be dragged into all this messy grown up business.”

 

“Like the army,” Nick mused, and Tony closed his eyes for just a second against the image of the fun-vee and the Jericho and F-22s midair.

 

“Yeah,” and he swallowed down the taste of bad memories before he opened his eyes. “Just like that. No minors allowed.”

 

“Which leaves Spiderman unregistered without a problem.” Nick leaned forward and Tony mirrored his body language subconsciously. “Except…”

 

“What?” What hole had he missed in his logic?  _ Where’s the bug in the code _ ? he asked himself, and ran through his impromptu speech again in his head. Tony frowned. “What is it?”

 

“If superpowered minors don’t have to tell us who they are,” Nick drawled, “how are we to know when they’ve come of age? Not like they’ll have their birthdays on display.”

 

Tony’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t stumped, not yet, but this definitely would seem to be a setback. “Huh,” he mumbled. “What about… No. Or… but then… no, not that either.”

 

“Care to share, Mister Stark?”

 

But Tony grew tense again at the name. “I told you, you don’t call me that,” he said, and now he was thinking about Peter again. What was taking so long? He should be there. He was supposed to be there for Peter. And he was here instead, having a-- a sociopolitical debate.

 

Tony stopped pacing abruptly. “No. This part is your problem. I’ve told you my reasoning, and you agreed it was solid. It’s your turn to figure out how to deal with the birthday problem. I’ll vouch for-- for Spiderman. At eighteen he’ll sign. In the meantime, he could be dying, so if you  _ don’t _ mind…”

 

He left. Possibly Fury was laughing at him, or possibly just saying something Tony didn’t catch. He didn’t care. He had to get back to Peter.

 

***

 

Peter was already stirring when he felt a hand slip into his that was at once too big, too cold, and too hard. He squeezed it a little to make sure. Yes, that was the Iron Man gauntlet. Mr. Stark was here.

 

“Hi,” Peter said. He tried to smile, but he was too tired to move. He managed a small and feeble attempt at a smile, and then realized the mask was still on, so Mr. Stark couldn’t see him anyway. “Miss me?”

 

“Are you kidding?” Mr. Stark was gripping his hand so tightly that if he hadn’t had spider strength Peter was sure his fingers would be broken. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. You think I wanted FRI to tell me Karen thought you were dying?”

 

Peter winced. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“Wasn’t yours either,” mumbled Peter.

 

Tony frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

Peter did his best to sit up, but he couldn’t navigate the blankets or move much of anything, so he settled for making eye contact. “It wasn’t your fault I got hurt.”

 

“I-- I know. I know that.” Mr. Stark closed his eyes. “I do.”

 

“You don’t believe me, though,” said Peter quietly. “And you shouldn’t think that. It wasn’t you.”

 

Tony dropped Peter’s hand. “But wasn’t it? If I hadn’t provoked you into--”

 

Peter shook his head too fast and it started aching, which was when he remembered that he had hit his head on the ground. He put a hand to his forehead, and then pulled it away when he saw the concerned look Tony was giving him. “I’m fine,” he said, before he could be asked. “Just kind of stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. Going after a gang like that on my own? I’m just a kid.”

 

He heard a tiny exhale and turned aside before he could see the disappointment on Mr. Stark’s face. Peter stared determinedly at the ceiling. The too-bright lights brought tears to his eyes and made his headache worse. He didn’t look away.

 

“Hey,” Tony said gently, “look at me.”

 

He shook his head, more carefully this time.

 

“Kid,” and it was so delicate in Tony’s mouth that it sounded quite different, barely even the same word, “Kid, look at me.”

 

Peter looked. Was Mr. Stark crying? He had done this. A pang of guilt struck him. He had made the invincible Iron Man cry. An Avenger. Instinctively Peter reached to wipe the tears away, and Tony didn’t make any move to stop him. Peter’s fingers grazed Tony’s cheeks so lightly they hardly felt anything.

 

“Thanks, Spiderman,” whispered Tony, and Peter laughed through the clogged feeling in his throat. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

 

“Mhmm,” said Peter, closing his eyes again. “Sleepy, though.”

 

“You sleep, then. I’ll be right here.”

 

“Not yet.” It was getting tough to think through the sluggishness of sleep, but Peter pushed it off just a little longer. “Wanted to say something to you.”

 

Tony smiled. “Yeah?”

 

“You were right. I’m quitting. Spiderman’s retired. Plus my aunt is going to kill me, so…”

 

Peter couldn’t manage to laugh as lightly as he meant to. But Mr. Stark was looking upset. What was it? Had he said something wrong?

 

“Don’t,” said Mr. Stark, waving his hand through the air as if to push the idea aside. “Don’t quit. It was-- I shouldn’t have-- don’t.”

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter wanted to remove his mask so Mr. Stark could see his face, but his wrist was caught before his hand could reach all the way up. “Hey, what--?”

 

“Not here, Spiderman,” said Tony, in a deceptively light tone.

 

Why was he calling him that? Why not by name? Unless he didn’t want Peter’s secret identity being revealed here. But wasn’t this SHIELD? “Okay,” he said, but he was still confused.

 

Tony sighed. “Look, I’ll explain more later, but I don’t want your mask off  while we’re here, alright? It’s just… kind of a long story.”

 

Peter was willing to accept that, provided he would be told the long story later. He shrugged.

 

“So you want to see if they’ll let you out of here? No, bad idea. You need rest. Ice cream, should I bring you ice cream?”

 

“Mr. Stark, it’s December. It’s freezing outside.”

 

Tony raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “So it won’t melt. Is that a no?”

 

“...It’s not a no.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone, okay?”

 

Peter watched Tony leave. “You’re late,” he said to the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legality is hard but my boys are soft...


	7. Chapter 7

Tony wondered which ice cream place would generate the least fuss if Iron Man walked in and bought a couple of cones. Or cartons. Yeah, that would be better. Peter loved this stuff, he thought as he descended upon some 16 Handles place.

 

“Frozen yogurt?” he muttered a minute later. “Well, alright.”

 

He got two of the biggest possible cups and filled them to the brim with every flavor that looked good, making a mental note to ask Peter what he wanted next time. This was going to be disgusting. On his way back Tony saw at least two tourists snapping pictures of Iron Man flying by with frozen yogurt in hand. That’d make a cool desktop background. He should look for it online later.

 

Peter was clearly waiting for the door to open. “Hey, fro-yo! Even better!”

 

“How is frozen yogurt better than actual ice cream?” Tony demanded, handing Peter his cup. Peter drew back his mask enough to get food into his face and started stuffing himself. “Also, this is going to be nasty, I forgot to ask what you wanted.”

 

“This is perfect,” said Peter. At least, that’s what Tony thought the kid had said; his mouth was already so full of frozen yogurt that it was hard to tell that he had said anything at all, honestly.

 

Tony couldn’t reply. He started poking his spoon at the fro-yo mountain monstrosity he’d concocted. “What flavor’s this?” he asked Peter, pointing to one particularly bright blue patch.

 

“You’re doing it wrong, Mr. Stark. You gotta just eat it. Take a scoop with your spoon.” Tony did so, still eyeing the blue. “And now put that in your mouth.”

 

Tony closed his eyes and tried it. It… didn’t kill him. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. It was almost good. He could definitely acquire a taste for this.

 

Peter cheered for only a second before resuming his terrifyingly efficient attack on the fro-yo in front of him. “See,” he paused to swallow, “the trick is to just keep eating so your tongue goes too numb to tell if you like it or not. Ow! Ow ow ow.”

 

Tony was on his feet immediately. Peter was clutching at his head and making a noise like whimpering. “What is it? What’s wrong? Should I call those doctors back in? Is it--”

 

“Brain freeze,” wheezed Peter.

 

“You little jerk,” said Tony, sinking back into his seat. “I have heart problems, you know.”

 

The rest of their snack was finished in near-silence. Not perfect silence, because it was continually broken by giggles from Peter at the occasional gagging sound from Tony.

 

“Oh,” said Tony abruptly, after a couple of minutes of this. “Your aunt  _ is _ going to kill someone.”

 

“I was supposed to be in--”

 

“Fourth period, yeah,” completed Tony. “What did you tell your friends? Anyone know where you were going?”

 

Peter fidgeted. “I mean… I kind of implied it. I couldn’t say too much, because… I should call.”

 

Tony passed his phone to Peter, and then took it back. “Never mind, I don’t want your friend to have this number. I’ll ask SHIELD for a burner to borrow or something.”

 

He started to rise. “It can wait!” Peter burst out. “Don’t-- don’t go.”

 

“Okay.” Tony returned to his seat. “Fine. Sorry.”

 

“Thanks for the fro-yo, Mr. Stark,” said Peter, in an obvious attempt to gloss over the emotional tension. “It was sweet.”

 

“That had better not be a pun, kid. You know those are my thing.”

 

Peter grinned. “It might have been. There’s no need to ice- _ scream  _ at me.”

 

“Dear lord, that one was worse,” said Tony, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “I’ve created a monster.”

 

“Are you going to finish that?” Peter pointed at the rest of Tony’s fro-yo.

 

Tony pushed it over to him without a word, hand on his stomach. Where did the kid  _ put _ all of that? And how did he keep it down? Ugh.

 

“FRIDAY? Remind me never to eat this stuff again.”

 

A  _ bing _ in his ear. “Reminder stored. Frozen yogurt has been added to the list of regretted foods consumed once and not again. Would you like to go through the list now?”

 

“No,” said Tony quickly, seeing the look of curiosity on Peter’s face. He pointed at the wide eyes. “This is  _ not _ ending up on… on Instagram, or Tumblr, alright?”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Peter innocently, but his face said plainly that he knew full well that Tony had no idea what secret account Peter had on either platform.

 

“You better not,” grumbled Tony, already planning to enlist Pepper’s help in combing the internet for this. “I’m a techie, I’ll find it.”

 

“You mean you’ll get Pepper to find it for you?”

 

“You’re lucky I like you.”

 

Peter smiled. “I know.”

 

***

 

Peter was feeling much better after consuming something like ten pounds of frozen yogurt in one sitting, which probably wasn’t the usual reaction to that feat. But he was smiling and his entire abdomen was numb with drugs and cold, so what did he care?

 

“Can I get back now? It’s probably about dismissal time by now. I think I must have missed lunch.” Peter thought about his backpack, still webbed to the roof with his civilian clothes.

 

“Did I just buy you twenty pounds of cold dairy for lunch?” Mr. Stark was staring at the empty cups with dawning horror. “Wait, what time is it?”

 

“I’d say it was more like ten pounds,” said Peter as FRIDAY answered, “It is forty-five minutes past one o’clock.”

 

“FRI, we’ve talked about this. Quarter to two, or one forty-five, none of this ‘forty-five minutes past’ stuff. You’re better than that. You sound like a smartwatch.”

 

“I’d certainly hate to be a disappointment,” Peter could hear FRIDAY say from next to Mr. Stark’s ear, and if AI could smile she definitely would have been smiling. “I could be replaced by Apple technology.”

 

Tony scoffed. “No, you couldn’t.”

 

Peter cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, class? School? Remember those?”

 

“Not really, thank god,” said Tony absently, and then he seemed to realize what Peter had meant. “Oh! Right. Yeah, I’ll see about getting you discharged. Give me a second?”

 

He looked at Peter. Peter looked back, confused. What was he waiting for? And then he remembered his own  _ don’t go _ , and he stammered, “Uh, yeah, go, I’m fine.”

 

“Alright. Holler if you need me.”

 

Mr. Stark was back in seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, or four hundred and fifty-seven seconds, which Peter had absolutely  _ not _ counted while waiting. “C’mon. You’ve got places to be.”

 

Peter hadn’t been back on the school campus for longer than twenty seconds before Ned was bowling him over. Literally. “Dude! Where were you?”

 

“Oof,” Peter muttered against a t-shirt, “you’re on my face.”

 

“Sorry,” Ned said, standing up and dusting himself off before extending a hand. “You alright?”

 

“Ow.”

 

“Sorry! Whoa, how did that hurt you, don’t you have, like--”

 

Peter shushed him before he could finish the sentence. “I’ve… had a weird lunch break,” he said carefully. “And you will  _ never _ believe where I went.”

 

“I’m gonna bet you can’t tell me here,” sighed Ned. “Classified information. Avengers only.”

 

“Spiderman’s not an Avenger,” Peter said automatically. “Yet, anyway. But I’ll definitely tell you everything after school.”

 

“This had better be good,” he heard, and there was MJ, her arms folded but not angry so much as intrigued. “You disappeared for the entire fourth period and lunch. I thought your aunt texted you? Why are you back?”

 

“I-- it wasn’t that bad,” he said, fumbling for a believable story he hadn’t already used. “She, um, she sliced herself in the kitchen by mistake and she’s really bad with blood, so she overreacted.”

 

“Isn’t she a nurse?”

 

“So what’d I miss?” Peter asked Ned, pretending he hadn’t heard. Ned obliged and pulled out some notes that were mostly doodles. “Wait. This isn’t for my class.”

 

“No, but these are.” MJ produced some hardly-better notes, but they were definitely for Peter’s fourth period.

 

“I thought you weren’t in this class?”

 

MJ shrugged. “Bio didn’t miss me. I never raise my hand in that class anyway.”

 

Peter stared at her. “Thanks,” he said finally. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Whatever, Jedi boy.”

 

“Oh man! This weekend! Can you believe it?” Ned said, bouncing as they walked back to the building. “I hope we get good seats, and…”

 

_ Yeah _ , Peter thought,  _ my friends are the best. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this every time but I am literally begging for comments... Please let me know what you thought!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I totally forgot today was Thursday! Enjoy and please review :)

Pepper was standing behind Tony, but he didn’t notice until her arms were around his waist. He startled before realizing who she was.

 

“Hi, honey,” she said against the back of his neck. “What are you working on?”

 

“Version fifteen. I had an idea last night.” Tony pointed at the upgrades he was making. This suit was going to be perfect.

 

Pepper didn’t look at it. She was turning her head to watch his face and the way he could hardly keep his eyes open. She sighed. “Please tell me you haven’t been down here all night?”

 

At his expression, she buried her face in his shoulder, still standing behind him. “Tony, get into bed.”

 

“Five more minutes,” he said, only half joking. “Come on, I’m almost done implementing the new--”

 

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Pepper started, but he shook her off.

 

“No!”

 

Tony could feel Pepper’s hurt stare on his back. He spun to face her. “This can’t wait. Peter got  _ shot _ yesterday. Remember that? Hmm? And my suit didn’t stop that. And it has to. Because next time, I can’t depend on SHIELD, or what if I don’t get there in time, or--”

 

“Tony,” Pepper cut in. “You’re delirious. You’re worried about Peter, and I understand that, but--”

 

He shook his head. No, she didn’t. She didn’t understand, because she didn’t know Peter like he did. Peter wouldn’t wait for an upgraded suit before putting himself in danger. Tony couldn’t let him down again. Version… whatever he’d last given the kid… had not been good enough to save Peter when it counted. Attempt 15 would be. It had to be. And it had to be ready as soon as he could possibly get it ready. The men who had shot him were still out there, although not for long if Tony had his way; he’d bring SHIELD into this if it came to that--who were those guys, anyway?

 

He didn’t know how much of that he’d said aloud, and he had even less idea how much of it had been at all comprehensible. But Pepper was looking at him pityingly and pulling him into a proper hug.

 

“Sweetheart. I know you want to protect him. But,” she said, and steamrollered over the start of his protestations, “did it ever occur to you that by working on this while sleep-deprived, you could make a mistake and not actually be helping Peter?”

 

That was a good choice of words. Tony briefly considered making a case for the wonders of caffeine, but he knew when he was beaten. He slumped, seventeen hours of consecutive work catching up with him. “Fine. Sleep.”

 

“Excellent. Come on, then, sleepyhead. FRIDAY? Get the bath ready, please.”

 

Tony cast a hopeful look at Pepper, but she wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been standing around in the lab for nearly twelve hours, Tony. You’re getting clean and then rested.”

 

“As you wish,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss. “Pep? You’re the best.”

 

“Lucky you,” she returned, smiling. Tony loved that smile, the one that said  _ Yeah, he’s an idiot, but he’s  _ my _ idiot. _ He knew it well; he had had many occasions to see it. And every time he did, his heart responded  _ That’s right I am! _ Which probably led to a pretty dopey look on his face, but it was worth it.

 

“And don’t I know it.” Yeah, there was the stupid grin, but he knew she loved it.

 

“May Parker called,” she said, on her way out. “Apparently Peter told her he got hit by a dodgeball in gym class. She doesn’t believe him. I told her to call you if she has further questions.”

 

“Why does May Parker have your number? And did you give her mine, because if you did, and she calls me about the  _ gunshot wound _ her nephew came home with…”

 

“She has my number because we’re friends, Tony,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, she has your number, and the understanding that it’s an emergency-use-only type of thing. You can’t expect her to be happy with no way of contacting you when she has to. Anyway, I should think you would be glad to hear it.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“Well, this way, you can keep even closer tabs on this kid.” Pepper smiled like she was teasing him, but Tony wasn’t sure.

 

“Pepper, are you sure you don’t mind all this Peter stuff? Because lately you’ve… seemed kind of uptight about it.”

 

She shrugged. “I mean… you’ve never introduced us. I can’t help wondering why not.”

 

Tony smacked himself in the forehead. He was so stupid. How could he have failed to realize what was bothering Pepper? “Uh, because I’m an idiot, and I forgot that you’ve never met. Remind me in the morning.”

 

“It  _ is _ morning, Tony. FRIDAY? Could you set a reminder for when he wakes up? Tell him to fix this. I want to meet this Spiderman.”

 

“Reminder set, Ms. Potts! Anything else I can do for you?”

 

“Is the bath ready?” Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Tony, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

 

When Tony woke up, FRIDAY informed him of three things. Firstly, it was the afternoon, and he had slept for a full twelve hours. That could explain the heaviness of his limbs and eyelids. Wow. Secondly, he was supposed to introduce Pepper to Peter today. And lastly that Pepper was on the phone with May right now.

 

“Oh, FRIDAY says he’s awake, you want to talk to him?” Pepper walked into the room and thrust her cell phone at Tony, who took it before he registered her words.

 

He put it to his ear. Sleep was still making mud out of his brain. Speech was a challenge. Tony managed a passable, “Hello?”

 

“Mr. Stark! At last. I don’t suppose you would happen to know where Peter was yesterday and how he ended up hurt?”

 

“Shouldn’t he have been in school?” Tony hedged.

 

May sounded like she was trying not to roll her eyes, but maybe he was imagining it. He couldn’t see her, after all. “His excuse was something about gym, but I know his schedule, and he did not have gym yesterday.”

 

Tony couldn’t remember what day of the week it was, but he was pretty sure May was right.  _ Kid, why couldn’t you think of a better lie _ ? Not that he was condoning lying to authority figures. “I take it you asked Peter about it, then?”

 

“No. If he’s keeping something from me, he doesn’t want me to know, which makes it all the more likely that I’ll disapprove when I find out. I don’t want to go behind his back, but if there’s anything you could tell me…?”

 

Her voice rose in pitch and he could tell how worried she was. It must be hard, raising a superhero on your own. Knowing your kid was constantly putting himself in harm’s way. Dreading the news reporting the worst one day. Tony bit his lip.

 

“If Peter’s hiding something, I’m not going to be the one to say something. He’s fine, right? If it’s not hurting him, I’d ask you to trust him. He’s been doing this for a while.”

 

“He’s a  _ kid! _ ” she exclaimed, and Tony jerked the phone away from his ear for a second. “He’s not supposed to be out there, swinging over the city and punching people, or whatever teenage superheroes do in their spare time. He’s supposed to be in geology or algebra or English, worrying about his test next period and thinking about getting coffee or catching a movie. He’s a kid, Stark, you got that? I don’t care if he’s been Spiderman since he was in diapers, he is  _ my kid _ . And no fancy new technology is going to change that.”

 

Tony was taken aback. From the silence on the other end, so was May.

 

“Sorry,” she said, and then, “No, I’m not. I don’t care who--”

 

“Don’t be, you’re right,” he said quickly. “He is a kid. Your kid. But he’s also Spiderman, and he’s more capable than we think. So I think you should ask him again.”

 

“You know more than you’re saying. Why won’t you tell me what you’re hiding?”

 

“Because it’s not me that’s hiding it. I’m not going to go around behind his back. He’s what, sixteen now? That’s old enough to talk to him in person, right?”

 

May gave a small sigh. “Yeah. I don’t know why I called, I’m sorry for disturbing your work.”

 

“Yes, I am very busy right now,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow at Pepper and looking around at the pillows surrounding him. “Terribly so. Just swamped, in fact.”

 

Pepper reached in and took the phone from his hand. “He’s still in bed,” she told May, shaking her head with fond exasperation. He grinned at her and she pressed a hand over her face to pretend she couldn’t see him. Tony could still see her smile, though. “Such is the glamorous life of a superhero. So where’s Peter now? Tony’s supposed to be setting up a playdate for me.”

 

She left the room as she continued making plans with May. Tony settled further into the bedsheets and considered the past 24 hours. How was Peter? What was Nick up to? How were the negotiations coming along?

 

Yet despite this flood of questions, Tony was surprisingly relaxed. Peter was okay. Nick was working on it. Everything would be fine. And Pepper was going to meet Peter, which was sure to be embarrassing for him, but Tony would manage somehow. Assuming he survived the swapping of stories between the two of them...

 

“FRI? Delete any video footage I wouldn’t want on Youtube, alright?”

 

“Are you sure you want to delete seven hundred and forty-three video clips?” FRIDAY asked.

 

Tony sat bolt upright. “Wha--  _ How  _ many did you say?”

 

***

 

Peter leaned across the table toward Ned. “So, you heard about the bus thing yesterday, right?”

 

“Are you kidding? Everyone was talking about it. That’s where you went during fourth period?”

 

Peter nodded. Ned looked awestruck. “Whoa. Then why didn’t you come back for so long?”

 

“I, uh. I got… hurt.”

 

“Hurt like what, like punched? Like stabbed?”

 

Ned was waving his hands too wildly. Peter had to duck, even across the table. “Dude, watch your arm! And no, hurt like, um, like shot. I got shot.”

 

Ned dropped his arms and stared at him. “What? Why are you here? Peter! Why aren’t you in the hospital or something? Are you crazy? Where did you get shot?”

 

“You want to shout that a little louder?” Peter whispered, and Ned glanced around guiltily. Peter pointed. “Here, but I’m fine. Mr. Stark gave me a lift to SHIELD and they fixed me up.”

 

“You were in SHIELD’s headquarters?” If Ned’s eyes got any wider they might fall out of his head. “And Iron Man took you there? Man, your life is so cool.”

 

“I was in middle of bleeding out at the time,” Peter reminded him. “But yeah, it was awesome. And then he got me frozen yogurt. Like, a  _ ton _ of frozen yogurt.”

 

“No way.”

 

“Way.”

 

“Way what?” Peter swore, someday, he was going to put a bell on this girl. MJ had her hands on her hips and a book bag across one shoulder. “What’re we talking about?”

 

“Um. We were saying how, uh, I heard this theory about what’ll happen in Episode VIII, and…”

 

MJ shook her head, pulling out her chair to sit down. “Nope. Never mind. No possible spoilers for me.”

 

“I thought you didn’t even want to see it,” Ned said, and she frowned.

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

 

Peter looked at Ned. Ned shrugged. “Nothing, then, I guess.” Who could fathom MJ’s mind?

 

MJ pulled her chair in behind her and jostled the table, which bumped against Peter’s chest because of the way he was sitting. It sent a spasm through yesterday’s wound. “Ow!” he yelped before he could stop himself.

 

“Oh, stop it, you big baby,” MJ said, “that didn’t hurt.” But Ned was staring at him.

 

“You okay?” he asked, motioning to Peter’s chest and mouthing  _ Gunshot! _

 

“I’m fine,” said Peter, rubbing his chest and acting like he wasn’t doing that. Like this was normal. “It was just a table, remember?”

 

MJ eyed Ned, but didn’t say anything. Peter pushed his chair a bit further back from the table, just in case. He hoped his face wasn’t still contorted with the pain he’d felt when the table had hit him. He couldn’t give the gym excuse to the people in school, who knew his schedule even better than May. MJ had covered for him when he’d skipped class for this; she knew he’d been out. He didn’t want her discovering what had happened to him while out. Maybe she’d just assume he had been mugged or something.

 

Come to think of it, he might have to plant that idea himself. It wasn’t a bad cover story, right? And it would make sense for him to lie to May about it, if MJ asked.

 

Peter was so deep in thoughts of this fake mugging that he didn’t notice MJ saying something until Ned poked him in the side. “Hm-- what?”

 

“I said, you’re weird, but I’m not going to ask. Did you do the reading for history?”

 

The next day, Peter woke up to snow. “Cancel school, cancel school, cancel school,” he pleaded. But his prayers were not answered by the school board. Grumbling, he grabbed his stuff, strapped on his boots, and began the trudge. How was Spiderman supposed to be Spiderman when he was wearing winter boots? He’d look ridiculous. At least he wouldn’t slip.

 

He got to school early and waited for Ned in the yard. “Hey, over here!”

 

“Can you believe they didn’t close school?” said Ned as soon as he got near enough. “Man, this should be illegal.”

 

“Yeah, but what about this?” Peter grabbed a handful of the wet snow and dropped it on Ned’s head before he could react.

 

“Dude!” Ned yelled. “No fair!”

 

Peter was already running away, ignoring the slight tightness in his chest. As long as he didn’t rip out any stitches, he would be fine, right? Super healing had to mean he could have some fun today. “You’re just mad because you know you’ll never get me back!”

 

“Oh, it is  _ on _ , Peter, you’re going down!” Ned flung a snowball at Peter’s retreating back, but it hit some other student instead. Ned clapped his hands over his mouth as she gave him a dirty look. “...Sorry.”

 

A grin spread across the girl’s face. “You will be!” She scooped up some snow and started packing it. Chaos spread across the yard. Every kid in sight started laying claim to the snow around them.

 

“Run, Ned!” hollered Peter. Ned sprinted toward him. “No, not to me! There aren’t any teams!”

 

“I’m not coming here for safety. I’m delivering this.” Ned whipped out a snowball-- from where, Peter had no idea. By the time he saw it coming, it was already splatting against his face. Why couldn’t his spider sense have warned him of that?

 

Peter wiped his face with wet hands, shivering but grinning. Ned was already off again, but the bell rang just then and called everyone inside from their burgeoning snowball fight.

 

Everyone was pink-faced as they entered the building. Peter thought he even saw MJ with wet hair. Who had dared to hit her with a snowball? But then she turned and her entire back was crusted with bits of snow. He only knew of one way to cover your entire back with snow like that, but somehow he couldn’t picture MJ making a snow angel… and he definitely wasn’t going to bring it up to her. Some things should just remain a mystery, he decided.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony waited for Pepper to return from her meeting with Peter. Happy had driven her to Midtown High-- sorry, Midtown School of Science and Technology. That place had more names than Thor had titles. They would have waited for Peter to get out of class, and then Pepper had not told him where they would be going.

 

“It’ll be our little secret,” she’d said, smiling teasingly. “Just me and him.”

 

“And Happy. He’ll tell me, won’t you, Happy?”

 

Happy had laughed at him. Tony was currently pretending he wasn’t still sulking. And waiting for someone to come talk to him.

 

_ Attempt 15! _ He remembered it with a jolt of guilt. It had been a whole day since he’d worked on it. Peter needed an upgrade faster than this, he berated himself. Time to get to the lab.

 

Tony finished the feature he’d been working on all Tuesday night too quickly. He still had at least an hour before he could expect them back. What else could he add to this version of the suit? He glanced around the workshop, and his eye fell on a discarded cocoa mug. Ooh, what about cup holders? No, that would be absurd. Hmm. Hot cocoa meant it was cold outside. The heaters could use tweaking.

 

Tony stayed bent over his workbench for long enough that his back cracked when he straightened. “Ow,” he muttered. Getting old was  _ not _ fun, he decided.

 

The next thing he knew, Peter was standing beside him. “Whoa, is that a new suit? What’s different, what did you add? Can I get a look at it?”

 

“Hey! Who let you in here? Security, we have a breach,” Tony called over his shoulder as he pulled a cloth quickly across the project.

 

“Oh come on, Mr. Stark, I wanna see…”

 

“No peeking at your present early,” he said on a whim. Peter gasped. “So how’s the chest? You’re upright. That’s good.”

 

Peter didn’t seem concerned, so Tony breathed a little easier seeing that. “Got hit by a table yesterday, but I’m good. Upright, yeah. Nothing serious.”

 

“Hey. I don’t care if it’s serious. I want to hear  _ anything _ , alright? Anything bothers you. At. All. You’ll tell me?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter said quickly. Tony let the moment hang. It was important that the kid understood this.

 

“Okay, how was the meeting? Pepper didn’t kill you, I see.”

 

“She’s great! It was great. I can see why you two are together.” Peter blushed like he hadn’t meant to say the last part.

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

 

But now Peter just shrugged, cheeks pinker than usual. Tony allowed him to imagine it could have been passed off as just the cold. “So you got along well, I take it.”

 

Pepper appeared in the doorway. “Tony, why have you been hiding this kid from me? He’s great. Right, Pete?”

 

Peter beamed at her, and Tony felt a small twinge of jealousy.  _ He  _ wanted that smile. That was  _ his _ name for the kid. Then he shook himself for being stupid. This was good. This was what he had wanted. Would he rather they hated each other? So when he smiled, he meant it. “Great.” He clapped his hands together. “Where’d you two go?”

 

Peter mimed locking his lips. Pepper ruffled his hair. “That’s right. No telling Tony.”

 

The look in Peter’s eyes when he looked at Pepper… Was that how he looked at Tony? Could he possibly have  _ that _ many stars in his eyes? With Pepper, it was understandable. Tony probably looked about the same. But why would anyone look at  _ him _ like that?

 

When Peter was gone for the night, Tony asked Pepper, who looked at him incredulously.

 

“Are you kidding, Tony? The way that kid looks at you… If you think he’s got stars in his eyes for me, then he’s got an entire galaxy for you. More.”

 

“Why?” The question came out without Tony’s consciously deciding to ask it. It slipped. He fidgeted. “Why me?”

 

“Hey.” Pepper took his face in her hands and turned him to face her. “You’re Iron Man. You’re Tony Flipping Stark. You’re an Avenger and a  _ hero _ and you are  _ his  _ hero. That child looks up to you like you’re the coolest thing to ever exist.”

 

“As he should,” Tony said, “because I am.”

 

“That’s more like it. Confidence. I like it.”

 

Tony smiled against Pepper’s fingers. “How much do you like it?”

 

Pepper looked at the workbench. “Well. Are you done here for the night?”

 

“I can pick it up in the morning,” he said quickly.

 

“Then I’d say I definitely like the confidence.”

 

***

 

Peter couldn’t believe he’d said that. He buried his face in his pillows and groaned. May popped her head in. “You okay in here?”

 

“I’m fine. Just an idiot,” he mumbled.

 

“What?”

 

He rolled onto his side so he would be less muffled. “All good.”

 

May pushed the door open further and made a funny little motion with one finger to indicate the moping-in-bed thing. “So this… this is just your average night in. Nothing bothering you at all.”

 

Peter wiggled one shoulder in his horizontal attempt at a shrug. “Said something stupid to Mr. Stark, but it’s okay. Pepper was really nice.”

 

“I bet,” said May. “Can I sit here?”

 

He scooted over to make room for her on the bed. She settled in next to his legs and placed a hand on one shin. “Not getting into pajamas yet?”

 

“In a minute,” Peter said, distracted. “You talk to Pepper, right?”

 

“You call her Pepper,” May noted, amused. “I... wouldn’t say we’re very close, but yes, we talk.”

 

“What do you talk about?”

 

May raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? It could be personal, you know. Maybe you’ve just been tremendously rude, hm?”

 

Peter grinned. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But was it? Are you going to answer anyway?”

 

She let him dangle for a few seconds before giving in. “Nah, you’re good. Mostly we talk about unimportant stuff. Lady talk. Boring.”

 

“Mostly? So there is important stuff, then.”

 

“Did you have to pick up on that?” May grimaced. “Yes, big shot, we talk about you sometimes. I worry, she worries, we reassure each other and it all works out. Good?”

 

“Good,” Peter said.

 

May looked at him. “So... why does she get to be Pepper and he’s always Mr. Stark?”

 

Peter didn’t have an answer. He said, “I don’t know. She told me to call her that.”

 

“Oh, and Tony’s never asked you to call him Tony?”

 

“You do,” Peter said. “Did he ask you?”

 

May swatted at his arm. “Don’t sass me, young man.”

 

He laughed. “Is it because that’s how Pepper talks about him? Did you pick it up from her?”

 

“You,” said May, “are very observant, and it is very late at night. Go to sleep, okay? I don’t want to see you yawning tomorrow. And you’re going to the theater on Saturday, you’ll want to be awake for that.”

 

She knew him too well. Peter accepted her good night kiss and pulled his blankets over himself. It wasn’t cold in their apartment, but the instant winter struck he piled his bed high with covers. Call him foolish, but comfort was directly correlated with coziness in his book. He lay beneath this mountain and fell asleep almost as soon as May shut the light on her way out.

 

Friday was the worst day of the week, in Peter’s humble opinion. Waiting for the weekend when it was so close? Torture. Time dragged by. Each class lasted an eternity. Except chemistry, which would have been great if not for Flash’s making a snarky comment about Peter’s project. But eventually even Fridays had to end, and then it was Saturday. The weekend, and the movie date. Plans. Not a date.

 

But even as excited as he and Ned had been for this movie, they had to admit disappointment after this movie. The three of them left the theater, blinking and vaguely horrified. MJ held up her hands. “Before either of you say anything, I want to remind you both that this one was your idea, and that I don’t care enough about this franchise to listen to the screams of fanboy pain.”

 

Ned pulled out his phone and started typing furiously. Microseconds later, Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It buzzed again. And another time. And again. Peter checked his messages, scanned through them, and started replying. MJ grabbed Peter’s and Ned’s arms and pulled them, still texting each other madly, away from the theater door.

 

“C’mon, Padawans. Let’s go soothe our frustrated eyes with some true cinema. Wonder Woman’s in here and we’ve got thirty-seven minutes before it starts, so let’s get good seats. You two can text each other until the previews start.”

 

Ned looked up from his phone at that. “Previews? Why should we watch the ads?”

 

“Because The Post is coming in January,” MJ said, as though this were self-explanatory.

 

“Oh! And Paddington 2,” added Peter, nudging Ned. Ned acknowledged this by shoving back and knocking him off-balance for two steps. He didn’t have to stumble, but a kid who wasn’t Spiderman would, so he did. He drew the line at actually falling, though. He did have  _ some _ dignity left, somehow.

 

“Nostalgia is a scam,” MJ said flatly, and Peter nodded.

 

“Yeah, but he’s still a cute little bear. You can’t tell me you don’t want to hug him.”

 

MJ considered this as Ned said, “Peter Rabbit’s out in February,” and pointed to the poster they were passing at that moment. “If we’re going to one, we have to see the other.”

 

“Peter Rabbit and Paddington are not the same,” Peter said, mock-enraged, and MJ cut off the rant before it could begin by pushing him into the theater for Wonder Woman, inside which it was too noisy to debate the nuances of CGI fuzzy friends. He’d have to settle for texting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so more research went into "what movies were out/coming soon in December 2017*" than into "gunshot wounds" but one is important for setting the story in time, and the other is handwaved because of superpowers, so... I guess I regret nothing. PLEASE comment! The story is almost over... I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you enjoyed reading it :)
> 
> *Wonder Woman, as I believe I have mentioned before, was out in June and would most likely NOT still be playing, but I mean, come on.


	10. Chapter 10

Attempt 15 was nearly finished. Tony knew Pepper wasn’t very happy with how much time he was spending in the lab this weekend, but he also knew that as soon as Peter could he would be fighting crime again. And his current Spiderman suit technically had a bullet hole in it, so it was crucial that he, Tony, would have an improved suit for him next time.

 

Never mind the question of whether Peter should be out there at all. He would go fight crime whether it was legal or not, and whether he had sufficient protection or not, so Tony didn’t see a problem in giving him tech to make sure that didn’t kill him. He wasn’t encouraging bad behavior-- if it was bad. He was just... minimizing the potential negative consequences of such morally gray behavior.

 

At least, that’s what he told Pepper, and it was probably what she told May he’d said. Maybe she’d said he was totally wrong to be doing this, but he couldn’t believe that of her. Besides, May knew her nephew. She had to realize he was impossible to keep down. Peter had been grounded, had lost the suit Tony had given him, had had a  _ warehouse _ dropped on him-- Tony had sat down rather suddenly when he’d first heard that-- but he was still out there helping people whenever he could.

 

That’s how Tony defined  _ hero _ .

 

He was telling this to Pepper, after a drink or two that night, and she was laughing but he wasn’t sure why. And it was hard to tell, but it didn’t sound like she found what he was saying funny, so why was she laughing? Was it possible to laugh sadly?

 

Pepper peeled the nearly-empty glass out of his hand and set it down on the table. With a coaster, he noted, because she was too classy to leave marks on a table. She was too good for him. Tony beamed at her.

 

“Tony,” she sighed. “How can you still not see why Peter looks up to you?”

 

What did that have to do with what he was saying? Tony frowned and tried to focus. “Huh?”

 

“You said,” Pepper swallowed and started again, “You said a hero is someone who doesn’t stop trying to help people. Like Peter. Yes?”

 

He considered her words, mentally repeated the sentence… “Yes.”

 

“Okay, then,” she said, sitting back and looking at him. “Iron Man is a hero.  _ You’re  _ a hero.”

 

“No,” Tony said immediately, from habit.

 

“No? How are you different? Or are you the exception to the rule?” Pepper thrust her chin forward, challenging him, and all he could see were the little freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Like stars. “Hey. Pay attention. Why do you insist you’re not a hero?”

 

This time he answered. “It’s ‘cause I’m not. Not after what I’ve done. I’m not good enough.”

 

“Don’t say that. Why would you say that? It’s not true, Tony.”

 

“Your eyes are really pretty,” he said, waving a hand in the general direction of her face. “You know that?”

 

Pepper sighed. “You can’t avoid this conversation forever,” she said, but she stood up. “Night. You’d better get some sleep tonight.”

 

Tony stayed on the couch alone for a little while longer, mulling over her words. He drained the rest of the glass’s contents and set it down carefully back on its coaster. What time was it? He checked his watch.  _ 3:23AM _ , it read, and he blinked. Had he been sitting here for that long? How had that happened?

 

He got up and, stumbling from the drinks and the late hour, made his way to bed. He’d have one monster of a headache when he woke up, but if there was any justice in the world, that wouldn’t be until many hours later.

 

There was no justice in the world. FRIDAY woke him at nine in the morning to inform him that SHIELD was calling him again. Tony threw an arm over his face at the sunlight streaming into his room. A mild hangover was pulsing behind his temples. Could’ve been worse, but... “Dim that,” he ordered, and the shades moved to block out more of the light. “Don’t pick up the--”

 

“Stark,” said Fury’s voice, and Tony startled.

 

“FRIDAY, we’re gonna have words. Yeah, Fury, what is it?”

 

“Can’t I just be calling to see how Spiderman’s doing? Kid got shot five days ago, and I’m not allowed to ask after him? Not like I have a way to get in touch with him directly.”

 

Tony sighed. “If you’ve woken me up to get in another crack about the Accords again, I swear, I’ll hang up on you right now.”

 

“No,” admitted Fury. “That one was just for fun.”

 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny. So why  _ did _ you call?”

 

“I…” Fury sounded hesitant, which seemed out of character for him. Immediately Tony was set on edge.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“Dealing with paperwork and diplomatic nonsense all night, Stark, I’m tired. What’s your excuse? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Point is, I’ve gotten the higher-ups to agree to minors not signing. We’re willing to look the other way for super kids, or whatever you called them. But do you want to tell Spiderman all of this?”

 

Tony paused. “Are you going to let me? You said not to, before.”

 

“That was before your kid got himself shot proving himself to you. Not that I can  _ know _ that’s what happened. Educated guess.”

 

It was a good guess, Tony had to admit. So if he could tell Peter everything that he’d been keeping from him, he definitely would. “So I can tell him. Definitely? No, I don’t know, no sniper gonna cut me off mid-sentence to protect SHIELD secrets?”

 

Nick might have laughed. “I’m giving you permission, but since when have you waited for that?”

 

Tony hung up. “FRI, text the kid, tell him I wanna talk. Ask him where he wants to meet up.”

 

***

 

Peter was doing his homework, but he checked his phone as soon as he felt it it buzz on his desk. It could be important, he reasoned. It had nothing to do with how much he despised essay writing.

 

_ Want to talk. Where should we meet? T. -Sent from my AI _

 

Peter laughed. Only Mr. Stark. He texted back,  _ Are you at the tower? _

 

Within half an hour, he was at the tower and waiting for Mr. Stark to show up. Oh, there he was.

 

“Hey, kid. Hope I didn’t call you away from anything urgent. Your aunt know where you are?”

 

“Just an essay! I’ll do it later,” he added hastily, at Tony’s disapproving look. “Yeah, I told her. She’s probably calling Pepper to check that I made it here safe.”

 

Pepper peeked in, holding a phone to her ear. “Yeah, he’s here,” she said to whoever was on the other side, and Peter grinned at Tony.

 

“So what’d you want to talk about?”

 

“Oh. Uh, sit down. So… you know how I was telling you last week that you should quit being a superhero?”

 

Peter’s face darkened. He was hoping Mr. Stark would forget about that. He’d been trying to do so himself. He hadn’t exactly followed orders. And he wasn’t too thrilled at the recollection that Tony didn’t think he was worthy of being Spiderman. “Yeah.”

 

Tony started to lift his hands out of his lap, then let them fall back. He looked conflicted. No, like he didn’t know where to start. “You didn’t stop,” he said, rubbing his temples.

 

“No.” Peter didn’t know what else to say. No, he hadn’t stopped, and it had gotten him hurt. He could have died. But he still didn’t want to stop being Spiderman.

 

“Hey, I’m not mad,” Tony rushed to say, and it was like Peter was able to sit up straighter suddenly, like he’d set down a backpack filled with rocks.

 

“You’re not?” He frowned, and then words flowed out of him uncontrollably, words even he hadn’t known he’d been keeping inside. “But… I got hurt. I thought this would… It would prove your point, right? I’m just a kid. I do dumb things. I can’t help people if I can’t keep myself safe.”

 

Tony was looking at him with surprise and… was that shame? Was Mr. Stark ashamed of him? Peter looked at his fingers and splayed them across the table to avoid making eye contact. His face was going red. Why had he said all that? If Mr. Stark hadn’t believed it before, he would now.

 

“Kid,” Tony said gently, and started over. “No. Peter, look at me. I’m not upset with you and I don’t think any of that. Well, you do need to keep yourself safe. But for the most part you do a pretty good job of that. Better than me, probably. And that’s not what I was going to say.”

 

Peter faced Tony. “Then why am I here?”

 

“I wanted to apologize,” said Tony, and exhaled heavily. “I made you think you had to prove yourself to me, and that led to you putting yourself in harm’s way, so that’s on me.”

 

“Mr. Stark, no,” Peter said, but Tony wasn’t done.

 

“The truth is, I told you to quit because SHIELD was pressuring me. They wanted Spiderman out of the picture so he-- you-- wouldn’t be active and then you wouldn’t have to sign and it was all a big mess, and it got taken out on you, and--”

 

“SHIELD? What does SHIELD have to do with anything? Sign what?”

 

Tony saw Peter’s confusion. “I’m not doing a very good job explaining, am I? Sorry. Five hours of sleep will do that. Uh. You know the Accords, yeah?”

 

“That’s what Germany was about,” Peter said, nodding, but he still didn’t see where this was going. “So?”

 

“So,” said Tony, pointing at Peter like a teacher who’d been interrupted. Peter fell silent, but Tony didn’t look annoyed. “Spiderman was supposed to sign the Accords. They wanted to know who you were. Are. They were bugging me about it for a while, no pun intended--”

 

“Spiders are arachnids, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted, sighing.   
  
“I know, I know. Jeez, kid, learn to take a joke. You think I don’t know that by now? Anyway, they were on my case about it. Fury told me if Spiderman dropped out of the picture they’d stop going after him. You.”

 

“So you told me to quit,” Peter said slowly. Things were starting to make sense now. “That way I wouldn’t be active enough to need to sign?”

 

“Right.”

 

Peter felt a knot in his chest loosen. It had nothing to do with his own performance. Mr. Stark hadn’t meant to snub him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Tony shrugged helplessly. “Fury wouldn’t let me. Said it wouldn’t end well. I couldn’t risk it. I figured I’d better listen.”

 

“So it wasn’t me?” He hated his own neediness, but he had to check.

 

“Peter, no. I already made that mistake once. It killed me to say it again.” Tony stared resolutely at the ceiling, and Peter could see that he wasn’t used to showing this much emotion. He’d gotten past the armor, finally.

 

Peter ducked his head, smiling despite himself. But after the doubt came the guilt. He should have known better than to think Mr. Stark would say something to hurt him. How could he have doubted Tony? Where was his trust? If he really deserved to be Spiderman, he would never have believed the worst of Iron Man.

 

“Kid, look at me. I don’t like that face you’re making. What’s on your mind?”

 

How to say it? Peter shook his head. “It’s nothing, I just… I can’t believe I fell for it, I guess. I mean, I should have trusted you to know what was best for me.”

 

“Fell for it?” Tony was shaking his head too now. “You had no reason not to believe me. Hadn’t I already showed you I was a bad judge of your abilities? This is my hit to take.”

 

Peter considered that. His instinct was still to blame himself, but Mr. Stark would be feeling the same way, so who was to say who was right? Maybe both of them were at fault, or maybe neither. It was time to let this go. “Okay.”

 

“Say,” said Tony, snapping his fingers, “you think that fake ice cream place gives superheroes a discount if they come in costume?”

 

Peter laughed. “It’s frozen yogurt, and---”

 

“Yeah,” Tony decided, “let’s find out. Come on, Spiderman.”

 

***

 

Another great photo op for the tourists: Iron Man  _ and _ Spiderman, balancing fro-yo as they made their way through the city. It was Tony’s phone background for a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! It's been great. Thanks for reading, everyone. If you've made it this far (haha), PLEASE consider leaving a comment so I know what you liked about this story!


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